Too Far Gone
by blufiresprite
Summary: Detention would've been fair punishment, but it wasn't Ginny's fault! So now she decides to get back at Draco; she cuts his hair and now he looks HOT! But he hates attention; now it's his turn to get even. DG R
1. Pink Hair and Detention

**A/N:** This story was inspired by my friend Jeannie's plot bunny—though it really isn't much of a plot—only just a few events or so—so I decided to add a few things to the events she has so graciously volunteered to make up in that head of hers (which is actually full of compressed air). Lol, just kidding, Jeannie! Anyways . . . here I give you, _Too Far Gone_.

I have no idea where or how that title will make sense in this story, but hey! It's okay to be vague . . . 

By the way, it's supposed to be D/G . . . at least it will be . . . eventually . . . 

**Disclaimer: **Not mine not mine not mine not mine not mine not mine not mine not mine not mine not mine not mine not mine not mine not mine not mine not mine not mine not mine not mine not mine not mine not mine not mine not mine not mine not mine not mine not mine not mine not mine not mine not mine not mine not mine not mine . . . mine!!!

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She was stuck in Snape's dungeon for detention. Snape was a bit busy for a moment and was kindly able to provide for a supervisor, so who would he appoint but Draco Malfoy?

Draco was supposed to be having detention as well, though Snape had said his act of insubordination was completely provoked and had let him off easily. His only duty was to make sure Ginny, Alexa and Elizabeth didn't attempt to do anything stupid and escape detention while they scrubbed Snape's previously used cauldrons. Little Amber had been given the fine task of re-labeling the potion ingredients, receiving envious and reproachful glares from her three friends as she dipped her quill into an ink-well and scratched along the surfaces of fresh slips of parchment.

Draco Malfoy was not at all what he used to be. A few years ago, he had been a perfect bully, but now he had strangely grown apart from the crowds of Slytherins he used to proudly associate himself with. He had become quiet though still held his respect at high altitudes. His hair had grown long and perfectly straight, down past shoulders, which he kept tied at the nape of his neck. His features weren't as sharp, but he very much resembled his father: Lucius Malfoy. He still held a dark aura about him and his sharp grey eyes were always piercing. The cruelty he had built up for five years now sustained an eloquent air of reverence, and as I said before, respect.

Draco was very popular among conversation, and he had tried very hard to remain outside them, even his characterized "ugliness" could not keep himself and his actions out of the common speech topics. 

While everyone spread rumours about him becoming a Death Eater and that had caused his dramatic change in character. Truth be told, a secret even grander than that had caused his sudden amendment in temperament.

Gryffindors, including Harry, Ron, and Hermione, had noticed his change in attitude and managed to deal with his out of the ordinary—which soon became normal—behaviour.

The Slytherins, with the exception of Blaise Zabini, had learned to steer clear away from him and to leave him be. His classmate Zabini, however, chose to do the exact opposite, and that's exactly how he had involuntarily decided to set fire to Ginny Weasley's—soon to be Potter, in Draco's opinion—hair. 

He had missed. He really wanted to set alight Blaise's robes, but he had purposefully ducked and his spell had come into contact with the youngest Weasley's hair.

Ginny had, of course, immediately put it out with a quick spell her brother Charlie had taught her—from his experience with dragons and all.

Elizabeth had marched right up to him, prepared to give him a smack upside the head, but Alexa had restrained her and decided to take matters into her own hands.

Draco ended up with two bunny ears protruding from, funniest of places, his seat; one eye taking up the entity of his forehead, yellow with a slit of silver; pink hair; and a rather small mole sticking its nose in and out of his ear.

Ginny received a sort of weird counterattack when she was about to tackle him to the ground; her mouth kept muttering strange, incoherent phrases in Spanish; her arms grew to about the size of clubs; her hair now sported embers and would, every now and then, display a spray of ashes.

Alexa probably had the least in spells lashing at her; all that distorted her graceful figure were two huge feet, which had ripped her new boots in half.

Elizabeth and Little Amber were both bruised, burned, modeling pus-filled warts on their noses and hands. Draco had even managed to add in a little spell he found useful against Pansy Parkinson; he gave them poofy hair—they looked as if they had been electrocuted.

Everyone around had cheered them on, as if it were some entertainment they had paid for and wanted their good money to be worth it. Most everyone was rooting for Draco, who only got away with minor deformation; a wickedly large eye that made him look as if a large egg had been slapped on his face with a permanent sticking charm.

Then there was also the fact that it was a little ways from the dungeons, and so it took the Potions Master a few moments to realize the intolerable excuses for humans were forming a riot a few halls away. He stormed down the corridors, cloak billowing behind him, and finding the large-eyed student of his about to be cursed by four of his Sixth Years, demanded an explanation.

'Ms Weasley, what is the meaning of this?' he boomed.

Passerby had gone eerily quiet and had, for some reason, decided that exact moment of witnessing Snape, to leave the scene of the "crime."

'Ms Weasley! I am speaking to you,' he started again, once everyone had gone.

A sputter of rambling came from Ginny's mouth.

'Ms Weasley?!' 

'Ya callate, por Dios, viejo zapote!' she muttered (in Spanish. **means "Oy, shut up, for God's sake, you old, smelly, man!" . . . er, something to that effect. **)

'Excuse me, Ms Weasley?' asked a baffled, infuriated professor.

'Pardon my interference, Professor,' Draco said, trying to rid of the mole in his ear.

'Yes, Draco,' said Snape in a bizarrely calmer voice.

'Thank you, sir. Weasley here cannot explain herself,' he began.

'I was not aware of the fact that she was that much of a dunderhead to become so very mute,' said Snape suspiciously.

'Trust me, sir, I would know; I cursed her to speak only in Spanish, and I apologise for my bold action of defense,' Draco stated.

'You are implying your actions were provoked, then?' Snape asked, smirking at the four Sixth Years.

'Yes, of course sir,' came Draco's steady reply. His face was impassive and he kept his composure proper enough that it was hard to recognize a lie coming from his mouth. But this was hard to display with pink hair and a huge eye. It was actually really lucky Snape hadn't seen the repulsive bunny ears protruding form his bum.

'Then I suggest you five get up to the Hospital Wing. Twenty points from Gryffindor for your serious lack of manner—'

'Que cojones,' Ginny muttered. (**means "God that kid has balls"—as in he's got guts . . . 'that kid' refers to Draco. **)

Snape ignored her comment and continued, '—and detention for a week. Mr. Malfoy, you will supervise their detentions as punishment. I will leave instruction ready when you arrive. Seven o'clock, not a minute late; my classroom. I trust you five to be prompt. Now don't keep Madam Pomfrey waiting; she can smell those embers and ashes from her side of the castle, I'm sure. And you'd want to get your languages fixed up as well, Ms Weasley,'

At Madam Pomfrey's, they had all been cured of their previous attacks. Draco was very thankful indeed to have his pink hair, large eyes, mole in ear, and bunny ears removed.

At seven o'clock, they had promptly met at Snape's dungeon for a detention session and Draco gave them clear instruction on their tasks. Snape had acquired a strange liking to Little Amber and so assigned her to re-label the potions ingredients. Their wands were taken away by Draco, and he had hidden them in Snape's office, so they could not complete anything with magic.

_This is like doing calculus without a calculator,_ thought Alexa as she scrubbed the tremendous cauldron clean.

Ginny would've agreed as well, though this was a thought, and Ginny not knowing how to read minds, was sort of thinking along other lines; not complaining, but doing something to escape this horrid and unjust punishment. _Ferret-face should be scrubbing this cauldron, not me! Argh! Leave it to Snape not to punish him. And that stupid kid had the freaking balls to make up that stupid story! It wasn't even a _story_! It was a stupid 'implication' that Snape caught. Grr, I am not gonna waste this perfectly good Friday night on _him_, the Malfoy dung ball. Escape; yeah . . . now where are our wands?_

Little Amber couldn't have been any more content; she had the best handwriting of her year, and now she could show it off—well at least to Snape and anyone who had the nerve to ask him for some illegal potions ingredients.

Elizabeth was sneering at every crusted particle that clung to the gritty and grimy inside of the cauldron. _This shouldn't be allowed! Someone could get lethal poisoning off of this repulsive . . . dirt. How dare Snape use this for detention? I could get intoxicated and end up with a rare case of skin rash; then __Madam __Pomfrey__ will have a ball using some bubotuber pus on me. Wait, isn't that for acne? Hmm, maybe I could use it for that . . . but still, Snape can't go out handing dirty, old cauldrons out to people for them to clean. Whatever happened to the nice old _'Evanesco!'_ spell? Stupid __Amber__; she got the easy job, and here I am with a dirty cauldron! Snape will pay!_

Ginny glanced at Draco. He was smirking and his grey eyes were gleaming with victory. _I'll wipe that stupid expression off his face, he'll see. _She stole another glance at him. _And that stupid hair of his! It shouldn't be allowed on the face of the earth; it's so ugly, so long, and so much like his father's. Yet still I wonder how he sustains his popularity; I can't go a day without hearing someone whisper about his life—he must make it a priority to go about and make sure he is as famous as __Harry__. Gosh, that boy has no life. I feel a bit sorry for him: trying so hard to keep his social status impeccable; no wonder he has no time for a fashion sense. _She shuddered as she looked at his long hair again. _That hair! It's soooooo ugly! I'll have to give him a trim one of these days._

'Weasley? Why've you stopped cleaning?' Ginny heard Draco's voice drawl.

'No reason, just felt like it, that's all,' she snapped at him. 'We have all night here, so what's the rush?'

'Well I am certainly not about to spend all night here with _you_, so you have better get a move on,' he said impishly.

'I never said you had to spend all night here with _me_ or anyone else,' Ginny replied in a tone of sweet mischief.

'Then start scrubbing. I'm sure Professor Snape would love to take points off Gryffindor or keep you four in detention for a few more weeks if you just happen to rub me in the wrong way. Now get back to work Weasley; I am the supervisor here, and you'll do as I say,'

Elizabeth glared at her, as if telling her to get back to work and leave it be.

But Ginny didn't listen. She wasn't about to let this stupid hypocrite of a bastard walk all over her like that.

'But I don't think I will,' Ginny said nonchalantly. She threw her filth-covered sponge into the cauldron and stood up, as if challenging Malfoy. 'Since we obviously can't stand each other in the same room, I'm leaving,'

'Ginny!' Alexa whispered loudly in a demanding manner.

'Sorry, Lexi, but I am not about to let this slime ball of a git walk all over us like this,' Ginny answered.

Alexa was the sort you didn't want to mess with. But since Ginny never really paid anyone much mind, it was no wonder why Ginny and Alexa never could really get along. Ginny had decided to annoy her 'friend' even more by dubbing her 'Lexi,' a name that very much infuriated Alexa.

Little Amber had stopped writing now; she was looking up at Ginny with big, glistening eyes and a soft, pleading expression._ Nuts, not now! Don't do this here, Gin!_ She thought.

Elizabeth, however, was willing Ginny to go kick that Slytherin's arse to Jamaica. She silently encouraged her with a sneer at Draco and watchful, attentive eyes at the catastrophe about to ensue. 

'Watch it, Weasley,' Draco warned as she took a step near him.

She could have run up to him and slapped him, but she fought back the urge and said casually, 'Watch what?'

'You wouldn't want to tamper with your luck around a Malfoy,' he retorted.

'And you wouldn't want to tamper with your luck around a Weasley,' she said, grabbing her bag, 'Especially if that Weasley is a girl,'

Draco laughed at her pathetic attempts at outwitting him.

'C'mon, Liza, Little Amber, Lexi,' she said nodding at each of her friends in turn, 'we're leaving this place,'

'Says who?' Draco asked her.

Ginny smiled at him, 'Says me, I mean, you're not going to stop us, are you?'

That little—ooh! Draco was tired of her stupid, pointless rampage! And to think she thought he was just going let her walk out on her detention, without their wands . . . _without their wands_ . . . Draco smirked.

'You didn't stop us from getting us landed here, so I don't think you're entitled at all to—'

'Oh, of course I won't stop you,' he said as if it were a ridiculous thought to have anyone stop Virginia Weasley.

Elizabeth raised an eyebrow and that made Ginny think a bit deeper into whatever it was that could be up the prat's sleeve.  Alexa gulped and realized what he was about to say.

'You—you won't be stopping us?' Ginny said, panic flooding through her. This was not Malfoy behaviour at all.

'No, there's more than just our surnames that contradict us. You see, it is at this very moment, you have forgotten one thing, Weasley: I have a wand, and you three _don't_,' Draco responded, a grin playing at his lips. 'And you can't get your wands back until you've finished up, so stop this foolish game and get back to cleaning that putrid thing!'

Ginny scowled at him in semi-defeat. She wasn't giving up this easily, oh no! By Merlin's beard, she wasn't about to let Malfoy get away with that! He had gotten them here in the first place, telling Snape his actions were provoked! By the Gods they were! _He _was the one who lit my head on fire. Then of course Alexa turned _his_ hair pink; Little Amber put a baby mole in his ear—an _actual_ mole, not a beauty mark, as we females accept to call them, mind you—Liza was going to give him a pounding, but decided against it and cursed his eye to expand and fade into a yellow iris with a silver slit as a pupil. Ginny didn't know the exact effects of eyesight, but she thought it increased his alertness and was able to dodge several curses and hexes. It took Ginny ages to get some bunny ears on him. Strange thing was, they ended up on his butt.

Little Amber's hair was still a bit poofy, and she had a large bruise blossoming on her right forearm. Though why Amber's classmates had decided to add 'Little' in front of her name, is certainly beyond everyone—including the author—at this point. 

Elizabeth . . . she was almost identical to Ginny in personality. Vengeful, daring, and living life to its fullest worthwhile as a priority. In context, however, she was completely different. She was tan with pale green, almond-shaped eyes and straight black hair that ran past her shoulders, and quite tall—nearly two meters in height—while Ginny had cream-coloured skin, doe-sized, chocolate—almost mocha—brown eyes, and curly auburn hair down to her waist, and a bit shorter than Liza.  

But Liza certainly had looked a lot taller with her hair going out in all directions. _Stupid son of a female-dog!_ (Liza's mind absolutely forbid her to curse, er, not _literally_ curse—not the sort of cursing you'd do with a wand, but the _oral_ cursing, although you do pronounce the curses by tongue, so that would be oral, too, but—well, you get my drift.) Elizabeth usually could've cared less about she looked, but it just so happened that Muggle Studies was in the same wing of the castle as was the hospital, and on her way there, (for she had to repair her burns and electrocuted hair) she had run into her crush: a Ravenclaw boy by the name of Tyler Grant. 

They were only on their way to Potions, and the Malfoy boy had, ostensibly, decided to set Ginny's hair on fire. It wasn't provoked whatsoever, just random . . . it was that bloody Slytherin's fault that stupid battle had started—though Liza couldn't say she wasn't proud of the large eye she gave him—and he only had to _watch_ them. _I can bloody watch people, too! But, hey; I was a poofy-haired Gryffindor, so Snape didn't really care what I had to say! If only . . . we could get those wands._

Little Amber finished relabeling her pile of ingredients and went to replace them to their original sepulchers inside Snape's potions cupboard. She got up, Draco's eyes watching her every move, and made her way to the closet. 

(_What is calculus anyways?_ Wondered Alexa as she turned to cauldron over, to finish cleaning its other side.)

Once in the cupboard, Amber placed * _Pedisulcher, Omniculvus, Tyrannus, Tequeha, Ervinsquich, Rewendis,_ * and _Supple Turtle Toe_, away. The cupboard was a small library—in the form of a winding hall—full of racks, supporting jars, holding various potions ingredients. As she made her way to the back of the room to collect bottles with moulding parchment labels, she noticed that between two liquid-filled vials was a small doorknob. 

She glanced behind her; the door to the entrance of cupboard was obscured from view as she had turned a corner to reach this vast closet. Looking back at the doorknob, she analyzed it—brass and shiny, as if it were used often. Little Amber tried it and the bookshelf of beakers, jars, vials, tubes, and containers swung open inwardly. 

There she was confronted with large quarters, a bedroom perhaps. Snape's bedroom . . . on her left there was another door, with a fuzzy window. In four lines in small letters at the bottom of the window were words which ran in this way:

_Potions Master _

_Hogwarts__School__ of Witchcraft and Wizardry_

_Severus__Snape___

_Office_

Snape's office! So this was where their wands were! 

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* Potions ingredients enclosed: initials spell out POTTER, yeah just thought you might want to know. *

**A/N:** I just have to get this chapter up! Sorry . . . comments? Any sense to continue? Be nice and push that little 'Go' button down there in that box . . . go on—you know you want to . . . 


	2. How to Get a Malfoy Not to Talk

**A/N:** I am absolutely ecstatic! The first day my story was up, I already had more reviews than I had anticipated. Six! Okay, that doesn't sound like much, but my other story got 7 reviews for its first 3 chapters . . . which I'm still working on . . . so six is a lot; at least for me. Now, I think it's the summary that really catches people's eyes, but then again I'm the author, so I wouldn't know. Anyways, I'll stop my rambling and continue _Too Far Gone_ on its second chapter. *takes deep breath* *exhales* *starts hyperventilating all over again* *puts on serious face* All right then, let's get it on! (This chapter is dedicated to my very good friend and reader, Chrystal; Happy Birthday! And x0 .Rhiannon. 0x ; you are my first reviewer! Yay! ^_^ Thanks so much to all my other reviewers, and who knows? Maybe you're name will be up here too, if you just review! *hint, hint*)

**Disclaimer:** now why would I ever want to own something like this? Something like _Harry__Potter__? _Oh yeah, maybe because it's the coolest thing in the world and because it's made billions of dollars? Hmm, I should consider identity theft . . . Oops . . . did I write that? ^_^ Hehe, just kidding! *-* er, yeah . . . don't own it and not planning on stealing it (any time soon). ^_- 

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Draco looked around the dungeon Dumbledore called a classroom. In all reality, he absolutely loathed the dungeons. It reminded him of the dark days he would spend wandering the vast and complex tunnels and dungeons of his own home; Malfoy Manor. But it also reminded him of the power he held; and it was all because of his surname: Malfoy. One surname was all it took to change someone's opinion of you; take Potter for example. The Potters were an unlikely couple, but loved each other with a passion stronger than life itself. Both were members of the Order of the Phoenix, experts in ridding of the dark. Their son also took up this challenge, even as a baby, and Harry Potter became known as the most famous "wizard" (in Muggle books) in the world, aside from Albus Dumbledore and perhaps even Lord Voldemort.

Draco watched his fellow students carefully, it was part of his nature as an observer, for he was a Malfoy and Malfoys observe everything as to predict future antics of the person that Malfoy is watching. _Stupid little Weasel,_ thought Draco as she went and sat down on the floor next to her cauldron. But he had to give her credit for trying to fight a losing battle against him. She picked up her sponge from inside the huge cauldron and her disgust showed on her face seeing that she was holding it with the tips of her thumb and index finger as if it were the most repulsive thing on the face of the earth. On second thought, cleaning a cauldron—previously used by Snape—probably was the most repulsive thing on the face of the earth.

_Isn't calculus some complex form of algebraic mathematics? That would explain my ignorance to it . . . so what's algebra again?_ Alexa thought, a baffled look on her face. To Draco, it looked as if she were trying to ask the cauldron why it couldn't just clean itself.

Elizabeth and Ginny kept taking turns directing scowls and sneers towards Draco, and his smirk began to fade as his annoyance became more apparent. 

Soon Draco began to wonder what it was that was taking that Boggle girl so long in Snape's potions cupboard. _Probably got lost in it_, he thought, an amused smirk forming on his face.

But Little Amber Boggle wasn't lost at all. In fact, she was actually quite well, rummaging through Snape's office, searching for her wand and those of her friends'. The room was a smaller version of his classroom, except for the desk piled high with parchments and a huge boiling, cauldron about the size of those that were currently being scrubbed clean by the semi-innocent girls outside. Shelves aligned the walls near the ceiling, sporting various internal organs preserved in formaldehyde. Little Amber began poking around through filing cabinets and desk drawers, hoping to find four wands.

*~*

Ron couldn't figure out why, but for some very odd reason, his sister had happened to land herself in detention with Draco Malfoy. From what he had heard, however, it had been for the fact that Ginny had given Malfoy some bunny ears on his bum, but that was definitely beyond her. 

Harry and he were, at the moment, in the common room of the house Gryffindor, contemplating whether 'extraneous factors will come into play of the Sagittarius' life including severe inflammation of the toe implying he/she should beware of red nail-polish on Wednesday' was a good enough 'prediction' for their Divination homework or not.

'You know, I think hairballs and breath-mints falling from the sky was a better idea, mate,' Harry said, his quill tip at his forehead.

'But why would Ginny give Malfoy bunny ears?' asked Ron to himself more than to Harry.

'Dunno. Should we ask the tea leaves?' Harry suggested, drinking up the last of his tea and swirling what remained around with the tea leaves as to make something of the tangled herbs.

'Naw, you'll probably find the grim or a cat in there more than once,' answered Ron.

'Or Malfoy with bunny ears on his butt,' Harry said, snickering.

Ron rolled his eyes.

'Now Harry, you don't believe that rubbish, do you?' Ron asked his friend disbelievingly.

'Yes,' 

'Yes!' Ron repeated. 'Why?'

'Aw, c'mon, Ron! This is Ginny we're talking about, second hand to both Fred and George, remember? She had always been the "prankster" of the lot, aside from the twins, of course; but who loved Extendable Ears, Dungbombs, and Fizzing Wheezbees the most?' Harry reasoned.

'You may be right, mate,' Ron said most sincerely, then smirked, 'We have to ask her how she got bunny ears on his arse! Can you imagine that? First Malfoy the Amazing Bouncing Ferret, and now Malfoy the Amazing Bunny Butt!'

Harry and he chortled the rest of the night, telling of fantasized accounts of what they could do to Malfoy, completely forgetting their Divination homework.

*~*

She had found them. Little Amber had found the wands on a shelf just below the cows' eyes. And she was very proud of her finding. _Let's see what these can do to wipe the stupid smirk off old __Draco__'s face,_ she thought as she happily replaced everything and closed the door of the office behind her. She carefully proceeded in the darkness of Snape's quarters and into his cupboard, also securing the camouflaged door behind her, careful not to arouse any reactions from the greenish-liquid in the vials on its racks. She stopped before the corner of the little corridor inside the closet and took a deep breath, willing herself not to glow as much as she wanted to and appear impassive, at all costs. 

Amber could just see the appalled look on Malfoy's face; _almost as surprised as when he got that little mole living in his ear. Poor thing! (the mole, not __Draco__) It had to come into contact with Malfoy! Good thing __Madam __Pomfrey__ killed it and spared it of any further pain._

As she rounded the corner, she could not even glance at her friends in fear she would burst out laughing and blow her cover. She carefully found some *_Acromantula__ essence_,_ Lobalug lung_,_ Bundimun Brew_,_ Unicorn hair_,and _Sea Serpent skin_* as to 're-label'**, though she wouldn't because she was armed.

Upon entering the dungeons and setting down the potion ingredient-filled bottles, Little Amber pocketed her friends' wands and kept hers up her sleeve. She would wait until the absolute opportune moment (~POTC~) to strike, though it had to be within the next fifteen minutes, or else the counterattack on Draco would occur a few minutes prior to their release from detention. She ripped the moulding parchment off the _Acromantula__ essence_, picked up her quill and dipped it into the provided inkwell and wrote out: A-C-R-M-A-N-T-U-L-A  E-S-S-E-N-C-E in her elegant script. 

She kept an eye on the clock—a waste of time really, since it didn't really tell time, for it had twelve hands and all these little planets orbiting out on the sides—above Snape's desk. The fifth smallest hand had passed the pink planet twice. _Action time!_ Amber smirked; this was going to be fun.

Little Amber got up, as casually as she could, and chose the least-messy of the ingredients, the sea serpent skin, placing it in her left hand, and the other bottles she kept in her cloak pocket. As she walked by the girls on the floor with the three cauldrons in their faces, she 'dropped' the sea serpent skin. The vial met the stone floor in a shattering '_CRACK!'_

Feigning surprise, Little Amber bent down to pick it up, slipping Ginny the other three wands. She winked at her, and Ginny wore an impressed sort of expression and raised her eyebrows, signaling Amber would have to explain herself later.

At the moment, Amber was picking up the pieces of glass from the floor and Draco came to inspect her 'clumsiness.' 

'Stupid Boggle,' Draco muttered, taking out his wand. '_Reparo__!_' At the incantation, the glasses from Amber's hand whipped out of her reach, reuniting with the remaining pieces of glass on the floor.

Alexa felt something poking her in her side. It was Ginny . . . with her wand! Her eyes widened with a mixture of astonishment, disbelief, and fear. Her mouth already hanging open, she whispered, 'How did you—?'

Ginny silently nodded her head in Amber's direction on the floor in front of her cauldron. She grinned with pride and behind her, Alexa could see Liza's eyes sparkling. It seemed she was dazzled with the wand in her hands. 

Liza looked at her wand and hugged, closing her eyes—passionately. 'Oh! I've missed you so! You've no idea how much I've needed you in the past hour!' she whispered excitedly.

Malfoy glanced over at Liza. 

She quickly found the item nearest her; the sponge—of all things—and hugged it, replacing the wand which had slid up her sleeve, as to protect Malfoy finding her wand. 

Draco raised an eyebrow in suspicion. _I think I should report to Snape cleaning cauldrons isn't healthy—at least not mentally. Some build of character this is doing! It's only driving these stupid Gryffindors nearer to mad!_

Thoughts of all the things she could do with her wand flashed through her head. _Oh, little wand . . . how enticing you are now that I have you in my grasp! And to think all I have to do is mutter a quick spell! Hmm . . . should I use one of __Dean__ and __Lee__'s spells? To give him dreadlocks would be—er, dreadful . . . hmm, cornrows! Ha! It's possible with all that long, awful hair! No, too complicated—I might contort some of his braids into a hairy ferret on the back of his head if I get too into the '_Pitatrensa!_' incantation . . . oooooh! What about an afro?!_

Little Amber, seeing Liza had her wand sliding up her sleeve, poked hers out of her own sleeve of her long black robes. She aimed it in the direction of the open cupboard. A bottle or two shook as she chose a crimson liquid-filled vial on the left rack. As Malfoy had his back turned, preoccupied with the task of putting the sea serpent skin back into its bottle and keeping an eye on the "mental-one" Liza, Amber saw it fit to make a distraction in order to escape the raw dungeons. She muttered a soft '_Wingardium__Leviosa__!_' and the crimson liquid-filled vial floated in mid-air. From her place in the classroom next to Malfoy, she flicked her wrist—as everyone should know the common 'swish and flick' of a wand is required to perform this charm—and made it subtle enough with the hum of a tune; swaying in place as if dancing to a song made her wrist swish and flick. Then she let it go. She didn't let her song stop abruptly until the glass shuttered in the cupboard a few meters away.

Draco spun around, snapping his head automatically in suspicion of the Weasley girl behind him.  'What the—?' But she couldn't have shattered a glass so far away without a wand . . . she hadn't thrown her sponge over his head and into the cupboard, consequently shattering an ingredient container in the process, had she?

He stalked over to the cupboard and leaned in to inspect the scene. It seemed the crimson liquid had been some hard-to-get blood, making it probable to be goat's blood. This being the second glass battle that had crashed unto the floor made Draco suspect Amber having to do with it, but it was inconceivable. 

The goat's blood was spewed all over the stone floor, some obstinately deciding to land on the ingredients surrounding the narrow walkway between the tight racks of ingredients. It was clear more than a '_Reparo__!_' was needed to clean this mess up.

Speaking of cleaning, back near the cauldrons, the girls were looking at the floor, deciding eye contact would have them burst out laughing in just seconds. Ginny, Alexa, and Liza all whispered '_Scourgify!'_ into their cauldrons and the once crusted, dilapidated and dust-caked cauldrons were now sparklingly clean.

As Draco stepped over the splash of blood and scourgified it, Ginny was whispering a plan to the girls in the furthering of their escape. Clearly, that Malfoy boy was finished with his job and that distraction would only keep him away for so long. 

Draco stepped into the room, glaring at Amber. 'Why aren't _you_ working? That little "accident" of yours can't stall you from completing your task, now can it?'

Amber gave the others a fleeting look, and sprinted towards her desk. While Ginny calculated how this plan of theirs would work, Liza and Alexa improvised cleaning the huge cauldrons in front of them. 

Draco sat back atop a desk, keeping a guard's eye over his fellow schoolmates. He folded his arms across his chest, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and soon was silently encouraging the girls to finish. _What a waste of time this is. I could be in my common room right now, testing my control over others . . . but of course that bulldog Zabini had to come in the way. If he hadn't pronounced that snide remark of his, I wouldn't have lost my temper and tried to set him on fire—er tried being the key word here. Then that git—of all things!—dodged it and it landed on Weasleys head. And she had her friends with her—almost no chance for me. Honestly! Why do girls travel in packs! They even go that way into the loo. And you'd think there they'd want to have their privacy . . . does that weasel know what it's like to have ears on your butt? I don't think she does! It's the weirdest thing; I could _hear_ people talking from behind me. What they said sent shivers down my spine. Especially __Parkinson__'s comment, _'Too bad those ears landed on his bum. It was a nice ass two minutes ago, but now . . . after those rabbit-ears are removed, it may never be the same. Good-bye good old Drakie-butt!' _Stupid girl.__ Can't get her facts straight. Those were _bunny_-ears, not _rabbit_-ears. _

A sudden scream snapped Draco out of his reverie.

'Ugh! My robes are all dirty now!' 

It was Ginny. 

Draco sauntered over to her, smirking. 

'I don't see what all the fuss is all about. Aren't you used to wearing dirty robes anyways?'

Ginny stood right up and flicked her hair behind her shoulders. She willed her wand to slide down her sleeve and into her hand.

Draco was surprised at seeing her once-put-away wand, but he didn't show it. He couldn't; it was his father's rule. How did she manage to get her wand when she was there the entire time?

Liza and Alexa glanced up from their "work." Amber dropped her quill in mid-word, on a desk behind them.

'Malfoy, you lousy prat! I'm going to do you and everyone else a favour! _Incisura__Capillus__!_' Ginny countered yelling.

Draco felt a soft tingling about his neck and head. His head felt slightly lighter and a sensation of something flowing down behind him urged him to feel about his tied knot of hair. It wasn't there. It was gone. His eyes widened, ever so slightly, but widened nonetheless as he felt up onto his head and touched his new hair-cut. Of course, he was furious. He couldn't see it at all—that weasel had cut his hair!

But Gin could see his new 'do. It was . . . _stunningly hot_! Ginny's eyes were wider than ever and she swallowed the lump in her throat. _Blimey he's gorgeous! And to imagine it was just his hair. . . ._ She mentally kicked herself for thinking such things and regained her composure. It looked as if Malfoy was getting for a counter-attack.

'Virginia Weasley you piece of scum! _Stu_—!'

He was cut off as another voice interrupted his sudden gesture.

'_Petrificus__Totalus__!_' Amber chimed in, determined to get Ginny back to the common room in one piece.

Draco slumped to the ground, hitting his head on the stone floor in the process, falling into unconsciousness.

Ginny let out a breath she didn't realize she had been holding.

'Oh my God! Amber! You—you killed Malfoy!' Alexa said.

Amber gasped and clasped her hand over her mouth in disbelief.

'Yeah, and just when he was getting hot!' Elizabeth whined. 'Ginny you're a genius!'

'I—I didn't kill him. I didn't kill him. I was just—I was just . . . Ginny . . .' Amber stuttered in a small voice.

Ginny stiffly went over to give her a hug. 'Oh, Little Amber, you didn't kill him. Look—he's breathing,'

Little Amber sighed in relief. 'I didn't' kill him! I didn't kill him!'

'Well that's too bad . . .' Alexa said scowling. 'I mean, you say that like it's a good thing,'

Liza rolled her eyes, but smiled in agreement.

Ginny laughed nervously. Amber was thinking along more realistic lines.

'How are we supposed to make this—' Amber waved vaguely in Draco's general direction. '—look like an accident?'

'Just hope that fall was enough to erase recent events. I mean, if we try an "_Oblivious!_" on him, we'll be sure to bring an extra toothbrush to Azkaban,' Ginny answered. 

'I'm a bit more worried about what he's going to say when he looks in the mirror. Of course he'll remember! And we'll get in trouble for one-hundred percent insubordination. We stole our wands back from Snape's office—by the way Amber, you'll have to explain yourself—then we went around hexing our _supervisor_, and tried to cover it up . . . or at least we're going to try to cover it up, right?' said Liza.

'And get another mark on our list of "Reasons to put you in detention?" No way!' Alexa exclaimed, absolutely horrified of another stain on her once-perfect discipline record, that is, until she met Ginny anyways.

Ginny rolled her eyes, and with one glance back at Draco—_why didn't I notice how good-looking he was before?­_—she escorted her friends out of the dungeons and levitated Draco onto a chair to make it look as if he had fallen asleep during his watch. _Snape will have a ball when he finds out his favourite student had a bit of shut-eye while he was to keep guard over the stupid Gryffindors!_ Thought Ginny with a feeling of bliss of getting back at Draco. Though now that she thought a bit more about it, it seemed he still had gotten back to her. During detention he was quick-tongued and sharp with words, yet when she removed his long mane of hair, he looked like an angel put on Earth. It was a wonder why he had chosen the "Evil Lucius of All-Time" look instead of the "Too-Hot-for-You" one. Perhaps he was afraid . . . _Now that is a definite thought; __Draco__Malfoy__ afraid._

*~*

**A/N:** Sorry for the long delay. It wouldn't seem a chapter this short and semi-uneventful as this one would take so long to write. But it turns out I was too busy with state exams these past two weeks. Today was the last day of exams and I'm happy to report I am done with this chapter, though it didn't turn out the way I wanted it too. I know Alexa was a bit "ditsy" in the last chapter, so I gave a bit more depth here. Hope you don't mind! Anyways . . . tomorrow I audition for the school play, wish me luck, please. Perhaps you could enclose it in a review? ^_^ you know what I want; a review! You like? You don't like? What would you like to see? More of Ginny? More of the life outside detention? Well, go ahead, push that little 'Go' button down there and get to typing! Cheers and toodles!  
-blufiresprite {J}


	3. Margaret Ruscher and Fig Forests

**A/N: **Hullo, mates! Just thought I'd send up a small compliment to you all! So, er—thank you! And please review! They (the reviews, you dunderheads) are all fantastic. Though I'm afraid it will take me quite a while to upload chapters, for I am very, very busy at the moment with . . . repairing my vision. This computer screen is really getting to me. Anyway, if you've got any ideas on REVENGE from Draco to Ginny or vice versa, please send them in! It would be great to know what you think about these oh-so-lovely characters. Plot bunnies are always welcome as well! And don't be shy to check out my other very long story _Windows_ (which I am not finished with either). Also: should Voldemort do something in this story? Or should it be all Hogwarts set (let Harry deal with the place bad word here) and fluffy? Dunno—I think that's why I am asking you: the reader, and hopefully, the reviewer. -

**Disclaimer:** I solemnly swear I am up to no good . . . erm! I mean, this doesn't belong to me . . . sheepish grin

::Margaret Fig::

Ginny looked up at the near-normal clock above Professor McGonagall's desk. If her calculations were correct, lessons for lunch would end in half an hour. _So much for "Time flies when you're having fun!"_ she thought.

'—for emergency purposes only . . . hmm, seems to me this is complete rubbish . . .' Liza said, throwing down the _Witch Weekly_ subscription for that week.

But Alexa reached for it and began reading an article on the transfiguring of an object to lip-gloss.

'—have to do the loopy-motion with your wand and keep your eyes focused on the object you want to turn into lippy g—'

'I didn't know lippy-g was a crucial element in the art of Transfiguration, young ladies,' said the sinister voice of Professor McGonagall from behind Alexa and Liza.

Ginny turned around, silently willing McGonagall not to add to their full detention schedule.

The professor caught the young Weasley's stare and suspiciously eyed her willful smile.

Understanding dawned on McGonagall, but her face remained as stern as ever as she replied to the tense silence, 'Put it away, or I will be forced to take crucial measures and do an entire lesson on writing _I will not read the Weekly_ until class is over, understood?'

The question was answered with silence and relief.

Colin Creevey was watching the ordeal from a table across Ginny's, and couldn't help but stare at the cover of the _Witch Weekly_. The superstar Morta Christi was on the front cover; once she caught sight of Colin dreamily gazing in her direction she began to flutter her eyelashes and flash smiles at him—she even went as far as blowing him a few kisses.

Because of this, McGonagall added in a whisper, 'And quickly, for Mister Creevey will feel it necessary to snog it!'

All the girls laughed at this and Ginny stuffed it into her satchel.

Twenty-seven minutes left.

Ginny looked down at her parchment and tried to concentrate. But all she could think about was Malfoy and what he would do to her if he caught her by herself heading to Herbology. Ever since that detention, three days ago, Gin had been nervously peering around corners, waiting for Draco's ambush to come. His revenge would not be "light."

Most of the time her friends would be with her, but today they all would head to Divination and she would have to make the long, lonely journey to Herbology unaccompanied.

Her detentions had been Malfoyless because Snape found Draco "snoozing" while he was supposed to be watching the Fifth Years, and "fired" him from his supervisions—also taking five points from Slytherin and giving Draco detention of his own.

What kind of detention was beyond Ginny at the moment.

She was still trying to find a way to avoid Malfoy on her way to the greenhouses. It could have been very easy, but the Sixth Years were having Herbology at this very moment and the chances of running into Malfoy were greatly increased.

Ginny blinked and reread the directions at the top of her paper. She still hadn't been able to complete Step One of her assignment. No doubt Professor McGonagall would double up on Ginny's homework if she didn't finish transfiguring her plant bud into a fig before class ended.

Twenty-five minutes left.

Twenty-five minutes left to turn the plant bud into a fig.

_But how?_

Ginny glanced over at what Liza was doing. She was the expert at this nonsense anyway.

Elizabeth's eyes glared at the wee little plant and she pointed her want at it, highly resolute.

_'Ficus Forma!'_ Elizabeth bellowed as her wand cut through the air. Her eyes were narrowed with grand concentration.

The plant bud suddenly began to grow larger and larger; its bud sprang out with a fast-growing fig.

Full success!

'Fantastic!' McGonagall encouraged from the other side of the room.

Twenty-two minutes of class left.

Ginny was completely distressed.

Ginny, hoping to be a great actress, plagiarized Liza's movements as she too looked at her little weed, pointed her wand at it, and hissed, _'Ficus Forma!'_

Her little plant began growing thicker and taller, like a tree, sprouting many branches; twigs branching off with large, wide leaves, and clusters of buds near the trunk grew into large, juicy figs.

A fig tree stood in front of Ginny, fruit weighing down the short branches here and there along its vastness.

Seeing as it took up a lot more space than the little pot where the one-stalk plant once stood, roots cracked it open and they stretched and climbed onto Ginny's desk, finally plunging through the ground, searching for water.

She was surprised she could grow such a thing. And surprised that such a thing could cause such destruction; and surprised that such destruction would be paid for . . .

'Professor, I—I . . . _I'm sorry_—I didn't mean for—' she stuttered as McGonagall made her way over to the large bush in front of the youngest Weasley.

'It's quite alright, my dear,' she said quietly.

McGonagall's face being obscured by the dense wild-growing fig-tree, Ginny couldn't tell exactly what was running through the professor's mind.

_Just great! This crap "spell" overdid itself! And now I'll have to pay for its extreme crapnosity!_

'Observe, everyone, Miss Weasley's success,' McGonagall recited as if a large fig tree cracking her floor called for the grandest of celebrations.

Alexa murmured, 'Has she gone mad?'

'Too much time with Dumbledore, I suspect,' Colin replied in a whisper.

Ginny cracked a smile at this comment, and stifled a giggle. To anyone else unable to see her behind the fig tree, it would've sounded as if she were taking pride of her accomplishment—but for those who could see her, could also read her expression of amusement and bafflement.

McGonagall approached the youngest Weasley with a slight lighter mood, a "swing in her step," and a twinkle in her eyes, visible behind her square-framed spectacles.

'Miss Weasley, I hope you understand how it is you created this . . . _tree_,' she said.

'I don't actually, sorry Professor McGonagall,' Gin replied uneasily.

'Well, this sort of advancement with such a simpler spell such as a "_Ficus Forma!_" calls for a stronger concentration for it to develop and progress into a stronger device—an emotion if you will. If you were extremely happy, sad, depressed, hyper, mad . . . stressed, or even tired, it could have triggered the stalk to take on the form of a fig tree . . . er, forest, actually,' McGonagall said as she looked at the ever-growing tree. It wasn't even a tree anymore, but almost a vine mounting onto the many walls of the room. It was practically _eating_ the room.

Colin's eyes gleamed with delight.

A Hufflepuff, Margaret Ruscher, climbed onto her table trying to tackle the fig tree. Apparently, it had taken a hold of her wand. Amongst her moans for assistance, most everyone stood up and tried to wrestle her wand out of the tangled shrubs. The Transfiguration teacher had a different idea, though.

'Quiet! Everyone back to their seats! Miss Ruscher, I could have expected better from you—I thought you had learned a few things useful from Professor Flitwick's class. Do you or do you not recall the Summoning Charm?'

Margaret was mortified. 'I—I—' she stuttered.

'Well? Try it, Miss Ruscher,' McGonagall huffed.

'It doesn't work without a wand!' Margaret cried as she burst into tears.

'Oh, doesn't it? Margaret, come here,' the professor said, in a softer tone.

Margaret rubbed her tears away vigorously and scurried to her professor. 'Yes, Professor?' she asked quite hesitantly. Her eyes were low on the ground.

'It is wandless magic—quite simple if you are in such an anxious state. Again, strong emotions correspond to enhance the effects of magic—even without a wand. Now, Miss Ruscher, please relax,' McGonagall said.

The class watched as Margaret breathed in deeply and closed her eyes. By now, nearly everyone had come into contact with a creeping vine or burst of fig juice. Ginny was baffled; the professor hadn't a thought to the hungry forest of figs. Instead she was preoccupied with teaching Margaret to relax. _Well, someone had to do it. The poor girl's so panicky. It was getting annoying._

'Perform the charm, please,' McGonagall instructed.

Margaret opened her eyes and shot her hand out in the direction of where she last saw her precious stick of magic. Abruptly she shouted, '_Accio__ Wand!_'

A zooming sound was heard about the chamber, but it was unclear where it was coming from. Suddenly, Margaret toppled to the floor in a heap of robes. A loud gasp was shared between the spectators of this scene and they all hurried over to the girl clutching her head.

'Ow! What was that?' Margaret said hysterically. 'It could have killed me! Who did that? I am really going to—oh,'

Her wand was lying beside her, twitching towards her hand. Margaret blushed a deep crimson. Recollecting her pride, she stood up, wand in hand, and strode to her seat . . . which was no more. It was enveloped in huge leaves.

Most of the class was trying very hard not to laugh, including Professor McGonagall.

Eight minutes of class left.

McGonagall regained her composure and cleared her throat. All the giggling ceased and all eyes were upon her. 'Please turn in your assignment—or at least what is left of it. Miss Weasley that does not apply to you; we can very well see your accomplishment. As soon as that is done, I will need some help to clear these trees before they—'

A shrill breaking of glass resonated throughout the room, and McGonagall grimaced. '—before they get to the windows. Ah well, better get Argus,'

Ginny, Liza, Amber, and Alexa dug through the entanglement of leaves and retrieved their belongings. Colin dove right into the fig bunches.

The students who could find their written work left it in a pile on a stool at the foot of McGonagall's desk.

Five minutes of lessons left.

'Anyone care to help?' McGonagall's voice said from within the shrubs. Ginny, feeling extremely guilty, could not just leave the taming to her professor. She made her way to where her seat used to be. She pushed her hands through the twisting branches of the fig tree and felt for its trunk. Locating it, she kept her left hand around it, while her right whipped out her wand. She tapped it against the trunk, and whispered '_Desino__!_' Swiftly, the trees of figs became only glittering silhouettes and the glitter gradually fell to the ground. Much shock was heard, seeing as many students had fallen over due to the fact that the trees were supporting them and had just vanished, disintegrated, beneath them.

'Thank you, Miss Weasley,' McGonagall said, after standing up, for she too was one that had fallen over.

'Anytime, Professor,' Ginny answered sweetly. She smiled and skipped over to her friends just as the end-of-lessons bell rang. They strode out into the corridor in silence, Colin's bag bulging slightly.

'Creevey, what have you got in there?' Alexa demanded.

Colin just smiled. He reached into his bag and pulled out something orange and tear-drop shaped. His smile brightened. 'Fig, anyone?'

**A/N:** Sorry for the long, long wait! I've been extremely busy with the play—we've just had our last show. And our homework has been piling up by the loads as end-of-term approaches. The last day of school is May 25th. SUMMER HOLS ROCK!!! But don't expect me to get more punctual; I'll have band camp as I enter High School (I'll be in the Colour Guard) and I am going to Cancun, Mexico and to Nicaragua as well. But more chapters should be up soon. Remember to review! Tell me what you think so far—ideas are always welcome. Oh yes, I have a question for you lot: How were you introduced to fanfiction? Please answer my question! Sharing is caring, as Vaneesha says. Cheers and Toodles!  
-blufiresprite


	4. Monkey in the Middle

**A/N:** Hello, fair maties of mine! No, I have not died. . . . I have only been extremely busy, er—lazy. But I do have my reasons! First off, I had a horrible case of Writer's Block (bet you get that all the time) and inspiration hit me while on vacation! What bad timing, huh? I am also trying to get used to typing instead of writing with purple, pink, and blue pens; though fear not, for I have remastered this enthralling skill. What does enthralling mean anyway? Hmm . . . enthralling—adjective—which describes—stuff. Alas, a word with no particular meaning! Muahahaha!

I will resign to the fact that I have most likely thrown myself into the loony-bin while on holiday.

**Disclaimer:** Don't you think Rowling—bless her, she's pregnant!—would know what enthralling means?

**_'c.'_**

center _Too Far Gone_ /center  
center Chapter Four: Monkey in the Middle /center 

**_'c.'_**

The library was overcrowded—Madame Pince's glaring and shrill accusations working overtime—due to the fact that all fifth and seventh years were straining to cope with the abnormally large workload they were receiving from their merciless teachers whom were trying to prepare the distressed students for O.W.L. and N.E.W.T. exams at the end of term.

If Draco hadn't known any better, he would've thought there was some sort of competition going on, involving caving oneself in a house of thick-spined books. Almost every recipient of O.W.L.S and N.E.W.T.S that year was hidden behind piles and piles of books (which he was quite grateful for, seeing as most every girl went on ogling him with his new haircut). _There is absolutely no way Weasley is getting away with this,_ Draco thought angrily as he tugged at his hair. Peering over neighbouring cities of reading material, Draco found that the object of his fury was conspicuous only in her absence. Every fifth and seventh year was making a great effort to keep up with the increasingly cruel academic curriculum—everyone except Ginny.

Her friends were there: Estep, Kartsnee, and Boggle, all whispering and giggling at a piece of parchment in front of them. _Girls_, Draco thought dismissively. Shaking his head, he gathered his supplies and stuffed them into his bag. He had to get to Quidditch practice in—he checked his watch—fifteen minutes.

He was the new Slytherin Quidditch Captain, Montague having left the previous year. Draco was left with the unpleasant task of training his newest players: Bulstrode, Crabbe, Goyle, and Zabini. Yes, he had a lot on his plate. He just hoped Crabbe and Goyle would be able to comprehend the concept of their clubs' use being for batting at the Bludgers and not teammates' heads. Adrian Pucey had remained on the team as Chaser; Bletchley as Keeper; and Draco as Seeker. His two new Chasers, Millicent Bulstrode and Blaise Zabini, were just the only two who managed to get the Quaffle in the general direction of the goal hoops near the end of the Quidditch pitch during try-outs, thus making the team. Crabbe and Goyle only flexed their muscles and threatened their way to becoming Slytherin's new Beaters. Needless to say, this new group of people was going to need loads of work, for at the time being they were complete and utter crap.

Draco reluctantly agreed to become captain after Pucey and Bletchley backed out, saying they had too much work to compensate with already, as they were in their N.E.W.T. year. Ironically, the pair was also missing from the slight congregation in the library. He decided he would point this out at a more convenient time.

For some reason, Draco was not in a very pleasant mood, now earning glances every so often because of his new hair cut. He mentally cursed Ginny as a pack of fourth years went by giggling, most likely at his new look. Draco's mind snapped back to his present situation; he could not let himself be bothered by such petty people, which were obviously inferior to him. This, though, did not mean he was not going to plot his vengeance against the Weasley and her pestilent friends. In fact, he had barely been able to concentrate on his lessons today, wanting to make a perfect scheme to get back at the girls. He often thought of hexing them, but he decided that would not do much, and he would most likely be caught. Then Weasley, Potter, and Mudblood Granger would have his head. In addition, he was not as pesky as he used to be and had found that once he left the threesome alone, the action would be returned. It was not as if he did not hate them—no, he _loathed_ them, and was not afraid to display his opinion at all, for he was sure the feeling was mutual.

He arrived at the quidditch pitch and went into the broom shed to recover his broom and the wooden crate containing the Quidditch balls. Draco nodded at each of his teammates as he passed them and recited his mission statement:  
'You are here to play Quidditch. Anyone screws with the given instructions, behaves outrageously or is just really annoying will have to answer to me. Got it? Good—first, laps. And no crap, Zabini,' he said, sneering at his unfortunate Chaser.

'_Right_, because I'm stupid enough to listen to a Malfoy, the egotistical git,' Blaise muttered.

Draco's temper already on the border of rising and gone, he clenched his teeth and repeated in a deadly whisper, 'I said no crap, Zabini. I just hope it's not too much to ask for when someone's so full of it.'

'That's okay, Draco, you'll soon learn to comply with yourself, I'm sure,' said a smirking Blaise.

'Oy, lay off, Zabini,' Bletchley said thickly before Draco could answer. 'He's Captain—no pain, no game.'

Draco looked back at his Keeper.

'Huh?' he asked.

'Well, you do know what they say,' Bletchley started. 'One size fits all.'

Draco looked at him, muttering, 'You have _got_ to be kidding me.'

'I think it would be wise if we just started this practice. Captain's orders are laps all around. How many, Malfoy?' Pucey called from where he fidgeted with the shed lock as he took to securing the broom lodge.

'I think ten should do it. And while you're at it,' he yelled as the players zoomed into a blurred circle surrounding the pitch. 'Watch out for the Bludgers. I'm letting them out.'

He released the Bludgers, Snitch, and threw the Quaffle into the air, all the while hoping that he had not underestimated the sheer horrendousness of his fellow players. He was responsible for them, and as a crappy team, he would also be responsible for the team's performance during games. Now he wished he had paid more attention to Flint and Montague during their pep-talks.

**'c.'**

Because Margaret Rusche was stalking her, demanding an apology for what happened in last week's Transfiguration class, and also due to the fact that she was pretty sure that Malfoy's next trick was around every corner, Ginny was forced to seek refuge in Gryffindor Tower after lessons, leaving it to her oh-so-very loyal friends to bring her books and keep her informed. The most common thing they did to help Ginny, though, was to make copies of their notes with a simple Duplication Charm, and to keep in contact with her at all times.

For that to happen, Ginny would have to cut off from civilization completely, which meant savouring the solitaire and quiet dormitory meant for the fifth year girls. She sat in the window seat facing the Quidditch pitch, pouring over her homework. Half the seat was covered in just books. Her lap was stacked with parchments, ink-wells, and quills. She glanced back at her two-way parchment.

_What a freak_, it read.

Then more words appeared, as if an invisible hand were writing them.

_He just sneered and left the library. Who knows where he is now._

Ginny smirked.

She dipped the quill in her hand into an ink-well and wrote:

_Who cares? As long as he's nowhere near us_.

_True,_ the parchment wrote, in a different script than the first.

_Why was he sneering anyway? Was he thinking about how he desperately needed a manicure?_ Ginny wrote.

_Ha ha ha! We dunno . . . _a new hand answered.

_Alexa, you always have some sort of stupid assumption_, wrote Ginny quickly.

The parchment was blank for almost a minute before words slowly appeared, as if they're author were hesitant.

_Er, he did sort of mutter "girls" before packing up. I suppose he was wondering why nobody noticed him before—_you _know. . . ._

A frown deepened on Ginny's face as she read this.

_You don't think . . . ?_ she wrote.

_We really don't have any proof if that's true, Gins._

_Any proof? He's a Malfoy! What more do you need to know?!_

_Look, Ginny, _it was Little Amber. _Malfoy is _not_ after you! If he were, it's probably just to thank you._

_Thank me? That's ridiculous!!_

_Yeah, it is,_ wrote a funky hand—Liza.

_See? Malfoy thank a Weasley? That's unheard of! Absolutely rubbish! —…——……………————…………———————………———……———…_

Her hand whipped across the page in an indefinite line as her head also whipped around. She could've sworn a huge black blur had just passed by her window.

_Ginny?_ Liza's hand wrote again.

_Sorry,_ she began to write. _I just saw something black pass by my window._

_An owl?_ That was Alexa.

_Shut up, maybe. . . . _

The strange incident troubled Ginny—surely an owl wasn't so large? _Oh well,_ she thought to herself.

She turned back to her Care of Magical Creatures assignment (_"What is a kneazle, and what does it resemble? Explain its magical characteristics._"), and out of the corner of her eye, she saw something black bobbing up and down in the window.

Ginny's head turned swiftly, but the object had already left. She was sure it had been framed in the window.

_Much too big for an owl. . . ._

**'c.'**

If Draco hadn't been thinking about how he desperately wanted to abandon his teammates and find a Weasley butt to kick, he would've noticed that he was flying faster than ever, and that his team's effort was nastily close to zero.

A few of Hogwarts' fourth, fifth, sixth and even seventh year girls had come to watch Draco and his team practice. It was humiliating. They all stood together, whispering fervently, and giggling like mad. He knew no one would've come if it hadn't been for that crap Weasley and her comrades. He would've given almost anything to behead her at this moment—

_Whoosh!_

A bludger had nearly missed his head. He turned his broom around to look for whoever had thought it funny to behead _him_.

It was Goyle.

But he hadn't time to comment on his aiming—the bludger came spinning round, this time grazing his right arm. It had come from behind him—Crabbe. Apparently he was caught in a game of Monkey in the Middle. Dodging the oncoming bludger again, he spun around, grabbed Goyle's club, and batted the bludger back to curve towards Crabbe. Crabbe then thickly hit it over his shoulder, right towards the castle.

Usually a Bludger wouldn't dare to exit the Quidditch pitch, but then again, Bludgers are very bold things. The accelerating Bludger was going to hit a window on one of the castle towers. Draco swore under his breath and sped after it.

The experience was a rush; almost like trying to catch a large Snitch. He kept his eyes on the window. He doubted he would ever forget its location in the wall. The Bludger, right about to crash into the window, veered to the left around the wall. As Draco followed it, he caught a flash of red in the corner of his eye. That was when the Bludger decided to begin playing games. Swerving to the right and bouncing off the stone castle walls, it zoomed backward and caught Draco in the gut.

Draco gasped as the Bludger hit him in the stomach, and his broom went racing backwards. Catching his breath, he grasped the Bludger in his bruised right arm and got in control of his broom. He paused in mid-air, to re-adjust the struggling Bludger. He could very well throw it back towards the Quidditch pitch, though it was very far off, and he doubted the Bludger would be flying in a straight line. He looked up and realized he was a bit away from the window which would've suffered severe consequences if the Bludger hadn't zipped away from it. Draco one-handedly flew to it, and his eyes widened in surprise.

Sitting on the window seat, and surrounded with books and parchment, was the Weasley girl, looking very troubled and confused. She looked as if she were about to spot him—he turned around and sped off towards the Quidditch pitch. Unable to erase the image of her, he deduced that the tower was only the rumoured Gryffindor tower, and that she was in her dormitory, safe and sound.

_Watch out Weasley,_ he thought_. I know where you live. . . ._

**'c.'**

**A/N**: Okay, that last sentence sounds extremely tacky, and that's what makes it kind of funny. Anyway, I have to give credit to my friend William for writing a few paragraphs up there and helping me with the Quidditch practice scene. I had to cut it from this chapter, but I will probably use it somewhere else. Thank you, Bobo!

Another thing, William and I are having a sort of contest. We are competing for reviews—and so far he is winning. It would be really great if you could help me and just sort of type in 'Cookie Monster!' if you have nothing else to say. That would still count as a review and perhaps I can get ahead. So, please, please, PLEASE review! And check out his wacky story, _The Epic Battle_, by actionmaster. You can find it by going to .

Be a dear and review. Cheers and toodles!

--blufiresprite


	5. An Alliance of Foes

**A/N:** It certainly is a hassle to have to do all of my homework before I can do anything else. And in this case, I'm writing this chapter only because I haven't any classes, due to Hurricane Frances that is sure to wipe the second story off my house. Hurricane Charley was just some bad winds and a bit of rain near where I live (Orlando, Florida), although many trees were snapped in half or de-rooted, shingles, eaves, drainage pipes, and solar panels were scattered in odd places, and it was raining buckets at my neighbours' . . . literally! There were three tin buckets in their backyard by the time Charley left. Since we have an avocado tree in our garden, Charley was nice enough to pick them and even leave us a bit of guacamole. This guy on the radio rang in complaining that his neighbour's barbecue flew straight through his screened-in patio and landed in his pool. Poor chap—insurance usually only pays 2 percent of all hurricane damage. Ah well, onto the story, why not?

**Disclaimer:** Do you honestly think I have time to steal a genius's work while I'm busy writing a fic? I think not!!

* * *

_Too Far Gone_

Chapter Five: An Alliance of Foes

* * *

She was cornered. _Curse the Fates!_ Ginny thought. She was running from Transfiguration to escape the wrath of Margaret Ruscher and her stupid idea that she was in debt of an apology. It had been a week since she had concocted the fig forest, and as stubborn as she was a teenager, Gin refused to give Ruscher an admission of guilt—McGonagall herself said that the Fig Incident (as she had taken to calling it) was just that, an _incident_, an _ACCIDENT_. But Ruscher was convinced Ginny Weasley should be on her knees, begging for forgiveness.

'Apologize!' Margaret's voice was threatening.

Ginny stepped back, eyes rolling in her head.

'I asked you nicely, now apologize, or prepare for battle!' Margaret was one oddball.

'Look, I already said I didn't mean it, so _stop_ stalking me!'

'But you haven't apologized!'

'What for?'

'For humiliating me! And being the indirect cause of the bruise on the back of my head!' the Hufflepuff rumbled in a tirade of anger.

'But I was the _indirect_ cause of that bruise. Your wand should be apologizing, not me,' Ginny said, rushing away.

'Hey come back here! I'm not finished with you! You're going down, Weasley!' Ruscher called after her retreating back.

But Ginny didn't turn back, the farther she was from Margaret, the farther she was from turning herself in to St. Mungo's Department for the Mentally Insane.

She zipped through the queue and made it to the huge oak doors at the entrance to her school. She had to wait for the sixth year class to leave the greenhouses where her next lesson of Herbology pertained. Flushed from all the running, she stayed in the shadows as a pack of sniggering Slytherins passed by.

Peering from her hiding place to make sure the chattering group of Sixth Year students attired in silver and green embroidered robes were well away from her, Ginny shivered and winced as a voice drawled from behind her, 'Weasley, are you always this daft, or are you making a special effort today? You should know by now that I don't hang with that lot.'

She took a deep breath and closed her eyes to stifle a scream as she turned to the pale, pointed face of Draco Malfoy.

'Sod off, Bunny-Butt,' she growled through gritted teeth.

'All right, but can I borrow your face for a few days? My arse is going on holiday,' he retorted, smirking.

She narrowed her eyes at him and stole a glance at his hands. They were in his open-robe pockets, uncovering his white dress shirt, loose tie, and black slacks; the possibility of his wand being clutched there was grand. She had better keep her cool—his next trick could very well be in the near future. 'Your arse is going on holiday, eh? I suppose it's because it was scared of turning into a lion's mane next.'

His smirk would've sufficed enough to make him look impassive and unnerved, but Ginny had seen the slight widening of his stormy gray eyes. 'So you still love nature, despite what it did to you?'

'Oh, of course! Nature made me _gorgeous_! You, on the other hand . . . well, ever since that new hair of yours—at least you look—less like a . . . vulture,' Ginny opposed.

He was glaring daggers at her, and his voice was pure venom as he countered, 'Please, every girl has the right to be ugly, but you Weasley, you abused the privilege.'

Draco swept past her and disappeared into the throng crowding the grand staircase, his open robe-front flapping against his arms.

Regaining her composure, and looking for a shot at collecting her pride, she yelled into the mass of her fellow peers, shaking her head, 'He's always lost in thought—it's unfamiliar territory!'

* * *

'You—you _saw_ him? And he, he saw _you?_ . . . Bloody nightmare!' Liza exclaimed, wide-eyed and dim-witted.

Ginny was recounting her passing with Draco between Transfiguration and Herbology. They were in the girls' lavatory on the second floor, Ginny washing the dirt off her hands and cheeks as she was caring for the poisonous seedlings of a venomous tentacula.

'Whaddabeedamessatufum!' Alexa muttered, scowling.

Little Amber focused her attention on Alexa from her place in front of a mould-trimmed mirror. Quirking one eyebrow, she let a look of complete confusion cross her face prior to asking, 'Huh?' in everyone's favour.

'I would've beaten the mess out of him! Calling me stupid and ugly!' she answered, banging her fist on the grimy porcelain sink in front of her for emphasis.

As she dried her hands with a simple '_Scourgify!_' spell, Ginny couldn't help but notice her friend wasn't thinking of the situation in the same context, and the blatancy of it all struck her curiosity.

'Why would you clobber Malfoy?' asked an inquisitive redhead.

Alexa glanced back at her, her countenance flat and disbelieving. 'Any brash bloke or lass, who hasn't any respect for me _or_ for anyone else deserves a flogging in my opinion,' she answered sharply.

A loud squeak filled the hard-surfaced loo as someone flushed a toilet and pulled open a stall door. The bleach-blonde who stepped out sported a very revealing shirt and an extremely short skirt beneath her untied robes. She glimpsed at the four girls and walked over to an unoccupied sink, heels clicking mechanically against the stone floor. Alexa gaped at her; Ginny glared; Liza raised her eyebrows as she ogled her outfit; Little Amber began fidgeting with her hair as the awkward silence settled into tension.

Finally, after reapplying some deep red lipstick, the blonde intruder looked up at the lot and settled her gaze on Alexa. 'If what you say you truly believe,' she began in a silky voice, 'then why are you letting the Weasley girl continue her impertinence of our fellow peers?'

'Aayla, for once in your life, do everyone a favour and leave us the bloody hell alone!' Ginny responded exasperated.

Alexa, however, went for a different approach as she silenced Ginny with a wave of her hand. 'What do you mean? Gin's been behaving properly—besides, what's it to you?'

'What's it to me?' Aayla asked, and she laughed a high, shrilly and unconvincing laugh. 'Kartsnee, you know very well what _she_ has done to rub me in the wrong way.'

'But that was _ages_ ago!' Ginny defended.

'I'm not talking about the frog fiasco, Weasley,' Aayla said in a bored tone, 'I'm talking about the figs . . . and how you never—'

'Apologized?! Maybe because there never seemed to be a reason _to_ apologize! What about that? What are you going to say to that, Cox?' argued Ginny.

'Being Margaret's best friend, I'd have to say there _is_ a reason to apologize. It's respectful—and what has poor Margie ever done to you? Nothing, and for that you give her a most embarrassing moment and a bruise.'

'Big deal; she lost her wand. It's not like _I_ wanted to grow a fig forest! Mind, if I knew it would've led to _this_, I would have made sure it swallowed both you and Ruscher before I sent if off,' Ginny finished angrily. _Why are Cox and Ruscher going bloody-murder on me? As if one simple apology would do them any good? I will not let myself be pushed around like some Apology Machine!_

Aayla narrowed her eyes at Ginny and turned on her heel in a defiant 'Humph!' as she made her way out of the lavatory.

'What a load,' Little Amber said, groaning.

Ginny answered as she mentally added this encounter to her list of _Top Three Reasons to Resign to the Loony-Bin_, 'You don't know the half of it . . .'

* * *

It was his free period. By this time he would've been fully immersed in homework and 'bloody _devoir_,' as he called it. He would've been done with more than half of it, but, just as it had done so during his last Quidditch practice, his concentration was focused on a certain Weasley.

To any onlookers, it would seem that Malfoy was in a very impatient and unpleasant mood, seeing as he was muttering words and catchphrases such as 'stupid . . . bloody . . . wanker . . . what gives her the right? Too vivacious . . . someone's got to teach her a lesson. . . . That damn Weasley!' which hinted to whom and what exactly was the object of such a temper.

Draco was so indulged in this pastime in fact, that he didn't even notice when someone slipped into the seat next to him.

'Malfoy,' a voice said.

'Idiot!' he muttered, his thoughts elsewhere.

'Malfoy,' the voice said again, a bit louder this time.

'Little piece of chicken dung,' he mumbled, glaring daggers at the parchment in front of him.

'_Malfoy!_' the voice exclaimed harshly.

'"_Bunny-Butt_,"' he mocked in a high-pitched voice.

This time the voice didn't repeat his name, but rather made an odd noise in her throat, attempting to stifle a giggle.

The strange snort brought Draco back from his reverie and he gazed up into laughing blue eyes. His temper rose. 'What the hell do you want?' he nearly yelled.

The girl stopped laughing and gave him a pointed stare. 'Shut up or you'll get us thrown out of the library!'

He rolled his eyes, annoyed that someone had bothered him. He repeated in a quieter, yet nonetheless irritated voice, 'What the hell do you want?'

The girl smiled and held out her hand for him to shake.

He grasped it uncertainly.

'My name is Margaret Ruscher, and I have a proposition for you. I've heard you've been having a bit of a problem with the Weasley girl,' she said in a falsely cheery, businesslike manner.

'How do you know about that?' Draco asked her acutely.

'I have my sources,' Margaret answered vaguely.

'Which are . . . ?'

'Your muttering just now and the scene you and Weasley made in the entrance hall,'

'_We_ did not make a "scene," as you so eloquently put it. We were merely discussing—'

'You made a scene. Period. Though everyone pretended not to be watching. And that last comment Weasley made—'

'The hell with it! Tell me what the bloody earth it is you want and leave me to myself!' Draco spat angrily, outraged by the fact that a Fifth Year, from a Hufflepuff no less, was very keen on his attention.

'If you would be so kind,' Margaret began, smiling misleadingly, 'could you tell me what it is you are going to do _about_ the Weasley.'

'What?' Draco asked, distracted. 'What do you mean what am I going to do about the Weasley?'

'Because you see, I am having a bit of a problem with her as well and if we could—'

Draco rolled his eyes and decided to lay it out simply. 'Ruscher, "we" aren't doing _anything_ as "we" are _nothing_.'

Margaret looked put-out for a few moments, though she regained her poise again and flashed him that sickeningly deceptive smile again. 'Of course we are something. We are . . . schoolmates—schoolmates with a common . . . common . . .' she looked around, searching for a word.

'Enemy?' Draco offered.

'Yes, a common enemy! And as such, I think it is time we made an alliance,' she finished, the stupid smile back on her stupid face.

'An alliance? Against Weasley? As if she needs two people to get rid of her?' Draco sputtered. He could have laughed. Why would he join forces with a Hufflepuff just to make sure Weasley had the worst year of her life?

'Well, she _has_ got three cronies,' Margaret reasoned.

Draco thought for a moment. Perhaps this year could be a bit more amusing than his preceding ones, what with an ally plotting against the one girl he wouldn't mind falling off the face of the earth.

He looked back at Margaret as a smirk curled about his lips. 'Done,' he said, 'let's do it.'

'I'm glad to be doing business with you, Malfoy,' Margaret said, standing up from her chair and smoothing over her robes. 'How about we meet Saturday, in the Annex? Just before dinner?'

'Fine with me,' he answered. Checking his watch, he realized his study period was going to be over in less than five minutes; he began to gather his possessions and replace them in his satchel.

'And if ever you need contact me before then, here's a way to let me know.' She handed him a piece of parchment, small, curling letters forming the words '_Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes: Two-Way Parchment_' on the bottom.

She grinned mischievously at his bewilderment. 'Why not use Weasley's own device against her?'

'Right,' he said, wondering if Ruscher had been placed in the wrong house.

Grabbing her bag, she winked at him and said, 'See you Saturday, then.'

* * *

**A/N:** I'm extremely sorry it's taking so long to get this story through. I guess I'm too much of a perfectionist, and my beta reader, also known as my best friend, has taken it upon herself to conjure some argument against me out of thin air.

Also . . . **I know this chapter was really quick and stupid**, but if you could please just bear with me, I would like to get it going in the right direction once and for all. I've lost most of my wit and enthusiasm due to recent events and my writing style and vocabulary has decided to go on holiday. I guess what I'm trying to say is that I'm writing this all with writer's block. I get it for the things that mean the most to me. I should write things out on paper first or just not think about it much until the end product. Maybe that'll help win everything over.

Hurricane Ivan has missed us by a hair, and now we've got Jeanne to deal with and Karl's ripping up right behind her. Just as Amber would say, "What a load!"

And as usual, please PLEASE, **_PLEASE_** review!!! It would really mean a lot to me. It's a bit late, I know, but the following is just a huge appreciation thing that I'm supposed to do, and I've always forgotten. Most of you don't read this fic anymore and won't be able to enjoy my gratitude. Please forgive me!

**Thanks to the following:**

**  
x0 . Rhiannon . 0x **- You were my first reviewer! Yay!**  
Jmagiq – **My faithful beta reader and friend; thank you for all of your support and I hope that we can get through our . . . issues.**  
GinnyYvetteHermione – **Kat, Stacey, and Aimee You are three wonderful people who have shared one username. Thank you for adding me to your Author Alert Watch list. I feel so special!**  
Katerinarose24 – **Where'd your username come from? It's really cool! **  
TrippyGirl20051** – Thanks! I thought the whole potions spelling out "Potter" thing was kind of stupid and geeky, but I'm glad you liked it!**  
The Red Vixen and Memoru – **Ah yes, I actually have to dismantle _Windows_ because of something that's come up. But don't worry, the story will not be lost—I just have to rename it 'cos the plot got so complicated and big. You will have to search for it under _A Page in the Book of Fate_ once I'm through with this fic.**  
dracosbabygirl** – Thank you for reading and reviewing. It certainly is nice of people to do so—it makes authoresses like I feel warm and happy inside. J**  
Julia – **Thank you for reading and reviewing; it made my day when I checked up on numbers. (Whole contest thing. See last chapter's end author's note.)**  
meower13 – **Yay!! You read my story!! Who told you about it? Who cares? You read and reviewed it! Yay!!**  
cor – **Thanks for wishing me luck on the play!! (I did horribly, by the way.)**  
H.S. – **I wrote more!! Go me!!

**Serpensortia**** Sweetie – **Thank you Jenna! But it was my beta reader's plot bunny—I cannot get all the credit. Let us just hope your comment won't make her _too_ bigheaded. Lol.**  
thePixiecomplex - **Thank you! I'm glad you like it!**  
bigreader ­– **Oh my gosh!! You are my most loyal reviewer and for that I owe you lots and lots of quesadillas and homemade muffins!! Ergh, that's an odd combination of food. How about we just stick with chocolate?**  
Estella luna** – Thank you for reading and reviewing! I absolutely love your username, by the way. Puts 'blufiresprite' to shame . . . **  
BlackMystick** – lol, I cannot deny that fact. Draco is HOT!!! Whoever does not agree will perish in the slimy hands of Alexander the Great. (Who is that, anyway?)**  
Lady Ghost Buster** – Ahahahaha! That name's so funny! Oh, right . . . um, thank you for reading and reviewing and I have updated.**  
PotterPrincess85** – Yay! You actually listen to reviewers!! That's awesome! I love your story and I'm very happy you are satisfied with my odd humour.**  
Delirious Dreams** – Thank you for reviewing my first chapter and yes, I know—Malfoy really should never utter anything like "I know where you live," but . . . he has to know where Ginny lives if he is ever to pick her up from her bedroom window for a midnight stroll. Oh dear, I've said too much.**  
kitkat159 – **Do you like kitkats? I think they're fantastic! Um, anyway, thanks for the favour of reading and reviewing my story. I didn't think anyone would take the time. Malfoy's revenge is coming up soon.**  
actionmaster** – Hey Bobo!! Thanks so much for your review. Why did you do that? Why are you helping me? I mean, you can help with bits of the story, but to review would be career suicide! What a nutter . . .  
**Elven**** Witch Pirate** – Thank you for adding me to your Author Alert Watch list. I really appreciate it.

**Cho9** – I'm oh so grateful for being added to your Author Alert Watch list. It means a lot.

**And for all of you who _are_ reading . . . review!! You'd like to see your name up there, wouldn't you? It is almost like being famous!! Lol, only joking. But do review! 'Tis your encouragement that inspires writers to, er—write. Besides, I would be so very happy!! **


	6. Face Off With the Face of Terror

**A/N:** I CONFESS TO HAVE SLIPPED OUT OF FANFICTION FOR A VERY LONG TIME. I CONFESS TO HAVE BEEN TEMPORARILY DISGUSTED BY THE IDEA OF D/G. I CONFESS TO HAVE BEEN REINTRODUCED TO FANFICTION AND TO HAVE REATTAINED A LOVE FOR THAT SHIP WHICH I MUST SAY NEVER QUITE LEFT MY DOCK OF IDEA.

**Disclaimer:** I solemnly swear . . . _Harry Potter_ is not mine. If he were, don't you think I'd be quite busy writing some where else?

. . . Honestly, lawyers. . . .

_Too Far Gone_

Chapter 6: Face-Off With the Face of Terror

'Someone,' Snape growled, 'Has critically torn the smooth process of refilling ingredient bottles.'

He glared at the class of stiff-backed fifth years. From behind him, he grabbed a small jar and held it up to his audience of terrified students.

Little Amber squeaked solemnly, for she recognized the beautiful handwriting which so ironically misspelled 'Acromantula Essence': it was her own. Ginny, on the other hand, was so dumbfounded as to why the jar could cause so much irate towards her Potions Master at all. It looked innocent enough. Sure, it didn't have an 'o,' but perhaps the labeler of the container wasn't too surprised to be labeling it.

Snape kept the jar of 'Acrmantula' Essence in the air for a bit longer and scowled at the class for even longer. It appeared he didn't think his message was quite clear.

'It seems I have been teaching a class of dunderheads all along, then,' he snarled, and his pasty face twisted in a most unpleasant manner. 'Not one of you can deduce that which I have from this mistake?'

The Potions professor glared at the pathetic bunch of nervous teenagers before him. He rolled his eyes and his gaze landed on Amber. He inwardly grinned. He knew who _exactly_ was to blame for the little spelling mistake, but it was just more amusing to creatively toy with the way he would get around to confronting her about it.

'Miss Boggle,' he pronounced somewhat too pleasantly. He was grinning manically.

'Y—yes, professor?' Amber answered mechanically.

'Miss Boggle, you are a very intelligent, _focused_, and humble girl. Tell me, what do you think would lead to the cause of the overlooking of the spelling of Acromantula Essence?'

Amber's eyes widened to the size of Cauldron Cakes and she slumped a little in her seat. She chanced a glance at Alexa, who was sitting next to her, but she was gnawing furiously on her thumbnail and looking stubbornly at the floor.

When Amber didn't answer right away, Snape's pallid countenance could not be any more frighteningly foul than it was then. He said simply, 'Miss Boggle, kindly explain why one would mistakenly misspell Acromantula.'

_It's not that big of a deal that I misspelled Acromantula—I once saw 'Head' spelled 'Hedd' in there! Why is he picking on me? I thought he favoured me, _she thought angrily. But she decided to maintain a calm and resolved complex.

'Miss Boggle?' Snape said once again.

Amber smiled and said airily, 'Professor Snape.'

Snape raised an eyebrow at her; she wasn't one to cheekily counter.

Amber inhaled rather profusely before managing her next string of words. 'What I mean to say is, Professor Snape, if one were to misspell Acromantula, wouldn't the misspeller simply be distraught?'

'Precisely,' Snape said.

And although Amber knew he was going to further elaborate, she decided to take his little pause as an opportunity to walk the sidestreets of an interlude. 'Precisely,' she repeated, in a tone of closure.

At her remark the Potions Master's eyebrows became entangled and united into one perfectly knit line parallel to the straight line presently being performed by his wan lips. 'And _why_ would one be distraught, Miss Boggle?' he spat. It seemed to be a perfect and unexpected battle of patience between the obnoxious teacher and collected, though inwardly disbelieving, student.

Little Amber was behaving rather unusually. In fact, it seemed to Liza she was merely unaccustomed to a professor lending her so much attention that she literally could not handle it and therefore was raising the stakes with what might just as well be a fantasy—no one could be upset with Little Amber; it had to be some sort of . . . alternate reality, or something.

'Perhaps one would be distraught with his or her surroundings, professor. I can tell you—it is quite impossible to complete much work when a completely biased, ferrety, and nevertheless arrogant boy is unjustly assigned "supervisor" during a detention he solely caused,' Amber answered.

Ginny turned to look at her friend. Little Amber had never so much uttered more than a 'Hello' and 'Goodbye' once a week to her in the whole year; how could it be that her carefully crafted words were being wasted on rightfully insulting a most infamously respected professor?

The Potions Master was entirely speechless. He almost gave into to gaping, but he could never be reduced to shamefully exposing his pride, which was currently severely wounded by disbelief. 'I see,' he muttered distastefully. 'Miss Boggle, you have landed Gryffindor a loss of twenty-five points for your indirect use of disrespect. You can also answer to the reproach of your friends, for you have also achieved an extra two weeks of detention with your current supervisor.'

'I shall see to that, then. Although, before you continue, professor, may I inquire as to the quaint blatancy of your hypocrisy?' she said.

'I beg your pardon?' Snape said harshly, which here means 'Shut up now or I shall be forced to deep-fry you with my quesadillas next Tuesday.'

'Well—you've just punished me for ridiculing the way you run your detentions. But you still seem to miss the object of my concern, and of course, the cause of my displeasure with . . . well, you, sir.'

Snape couldn't take much more of this, but he was willing to tolerate certain misdemeanors he would not tolerate from anyone else but the child who seemed unafraid to challenge his wit. 'Proceed,' he said, much to the relief of Gryffindors, as he had not taken away any more House points.

Little Amber Boggle bit her lip as she thought a bit into what she was about to say. It was understood that she was plunging deep into a pool that had a very unpredictable depth—it could be much shallower than she had originally perceived it to be, though so far her conclusion seemed to be correct.

'I admit to the misspelling of Acromantula. I missed the "o." I apologise, but it was all due to the rude, biting comments of our supervisor. You have punished me with two more weeks of detention with that same person. How am I to cease all further mistakes from occurring if its root cause is still required in castigation?'

Snape blinked. What did 'castigation' mean again? And where in the world did the quiet Amber Boggle he knew go? But the girl had a point—it was illogical to expect her to complete tasks of chastisement when all concentration would be lost while maintaining focus on Draco Malfoy, an ethereal being whose mannerisms he seemed to take after his Head of House.

As Severus Snape thought this through, every Gryffindor and Slytherin in the room silently gaped in awe at the little Gryffindor whom so reasonably captured their professor's attention without a bout of fear and without too harsh a reply from her partner in dialogue.

Suddenly Snape smiled. 'Miss Boggle,' he said almost too cheerily, 'I have a solution to your problem. It seems only you are having any trouble with detention, and so I propose you and I have separate sessions while the rest of your troupe continues regular sessions with said supervisor?'

Amber shook her head immediately upon hearing such an idea and said to her professor quite honestly, 'Oh, that's not such a grand idea, professor. I don't know if you have noticed, but there's a sort of rivalry between the Weasleys and Malfoys and your idea would not resolve the problem at all whatsoever. In all actuality, I'm afraid it may just worsen the circumstances.'

'Miss Boggle, I am quite aware of the ridiculous feud between the Weasleys and Malfoys and find it just that: ridiculous! In all actuality, I think a bit more time between the offspring, the better! Maybe then they'll get along!' Snape exclaimed, deathly furiously.

Ginny's face was as red as her hair and it was with all her might she did not shout the following: 'Professor, if you think a bit more _time_ between the two of us could ever surface into any sort of truce, you are _wrong_, sir, WRONG. I know for a fact that hatred is never surpassed and hardly resolved—if time is what you seek, a session of detention is surely the incorrect answer!'

'Enough!' Snape's shout echoed hollowly throughout the extremely tense dungeon. 'Weasley, Boggle, you two will see me after class in the Headmaster's office. I will be escorting you. And as for the rest of you Gryffindors, I congratulate you: I announce a total of fifty points _gone_ from this lesson's little discussion.'

'He started it,' a random voice piped up.

'Correction, seventy-five points lost to Gryffindor. Very well, carry on with the day's assignment. And do remember your essays on the Experimental Uses of Dragon Knuckles are due next Thursday,' Snape said, much too bothered to be argued with. No one even groaned at the mention of their homework.

Snape smiled; _that's what you call power, _he thought.

_Ruscher,_ Draco wrote upon the WWW Two-Way Parchment. He felt like an idiot, writing on a piece of paper, and expecting it to answer.

Surprisingly, it did: **Malfoy. What do you need?**

Draco stared down at the parchment asking himself the same question. He wasn't quite sure why he had decided to contact Margaret so early (the day after), but he felt it necessary to make sure the whole 'alliance' thing was real.

_Ruscher, I want to know why you wanted me to be your 'ally.' _

**Why? **was all she asked.

_It just seems a little ridiculous, that's all._

**You think I'm ridiculous?**

_What? No, that's not what I said. I said that this whole alliance thing seems ridiculous._

**Why?**

**  
**

_Because, we're . . . we're using a common enemy to—erm, find common ground. _

**So?**

Draco didn't answer for a long time. He had thought it over the night before and thought his spur of the moment action was going to cost him a lot of unnecessary irate. Joining forces with a Hufflepuff against Weasley seemed too dumb to ever comprehend, yet he had done so. And he had done so without a doubt. But what troubled him the most was _why_ a Hufflepuff would make a rival out of one of the so-called 'friendliest' girls in school. And what really bit at his curiousity was that she had even _asked_ him to be her 'ally' against Weasley. _That_ was just pretty unbelievable.

_Ruscher, why are you in so much . . . disagreement with the Weasley girl?_

**Why are you?**

_. . . We _do _have quite a history._

**Yes, the Weasley Whore and I also go pretty far back.**

_Really?__ How far back?_

**Oh, about a week.**

Draco rolled his eyes. Girls could hold such stupid grudges.

_What'd she do?_

**She conjured up a fig forest in McGonagall's class which consequently swallowed my wand. I couldn't find it at all!**

_You should have used the Summoning Charm._

**I did. Anyway, the figs grew so fast that by the time I Summoned it to me, it had brought my wand all the way to the other side of the classroom. "Accio," said I; worst mistake of my life. That wand came flying out of nowhere and hit me squarely in the back of the head!**

Draco smirked, imagining the scene play in his mind. But Weasley? Have enough power to conjure up a fig forest? _What was the lesson? _He asked Ruscher.

**Harvesting.**** We were using figs to practice. **

_And the incantation?_

Draco was highly interested now. Perhaps there was more to Weasley than her surname and red hair after all.

**_Ficus_****_ Forma_**** That really annoying one with the counter-clockwise loop and upward drag of the wand. **

Draco nodded, he remembered it only too well. He was the first one to catch on to the wand technique. He also remembered his fig growing uncontrollably to the size of his desk. He had stopped it just in time and had shrunk it before McGonagall had noticed.

_Curious,_ he wrote to her.

**What's curious?**

_That same spell made my fig grow as large as my desk._

**Erm. . . .**** Okay, well, I gotta go. I think we're supposed to be counting stones now. I'm in Ancient Runes, by the way.**

_I figured._

**I'll talk to you later, then.**

_It seems it will be so._

And the parchment cleared.

'Mr Malfoy,' Flitwick chirped from a tall pile of books at the front of the room.

'Yes, professor?' Draco answered, looking up from his conversation.

'The lesson is over; we are all supposed to be practicing the _Chanter Charm_ with our designated partners.'

Draco looked around. Everyone had paired up. Only he had been left.

Only he had been left with the exception of Neville Longbottom.

_Oh bloody hell,_ he thought. _This is going to be interesting._

'Oy, Longbottom, try not to make me sing too prettily, you hear?'

Neville, since the year before, had outgrown his cowardly exterior and had made a name for himself amongst many prestigious endeavours.

'Just as long as you swear you won't charm me into your clone, Malfoy,' he said impatiently.

**A/N:** That's Chapter Six, for you. A bit on the slow side and uninteresting, but I promise there should be more D/G action soon. This is all just a slow introduction to what's waiting up ahead.

**Chocolate for anyone who reviews! Remember; review to tell me what you think. An author always appreciates it when a reader takes the time to do so.**

Cheers and tootles!

—blufiresprite


	7. The Doomed Duo

A/N: I'm soo sorry this is taking me so long to write up (ahem, it's been a good two years or so), but it's quite difficult dealing with life and then trying to give that to a story stored somewhere in the vast expanse of one's hard drive.

**Disclaimer**: I thought we've been through this already . . . Harry Potter is not mine.

* * *

_Too Far Gone_

Chapter Seven: The Doomed Duo (Whichever Way You Look At It)

* * *

The bell rang to signal the end of class. Amber and Ginny looked at each other. It was time for the moment they had been dreading since Snape told them he'd be escorting them to the Headmaster's office. The idea seemed completely useless to the point of absurdity. Liza and Alexa gathered their cauldrons and stuffed them haphazardly into their satchels, too worried about their friends to preoccupy themselves with the wellbeing of their materials.

'Would you like us to stay?' Alexa asked. She had finally taken to reprimanding the foot that usually found itself lodged in her mouth.

Ginny shook her head at her. 'No,' she said. 'I don't think that would be wise. The two of you don't deserve any more detention just because we decided to talk back to a professor.'

Liza breathed out what seemed like a sigh of relief but asked anyway, 'Are you sure?'

Amber sighed and lifted her head back so that she spoke to the ceiling. 'Yes, we're sure,' she said. And then in an undertone, she muttered, 'Why? Why must I go to the Headmaster's office? What will become of me?'

'What will become of us?' added Ginny, as she too overdramatically inquired the ceiling that seemed to know all.

Liza and Alexa gave them odd looks.

Ginny stared at the ceiling a bit longer, and once sure it would not respond, she said to Amber, 'Erm, I don't get it. All the Muggles do it. . . .'

'Well, you know what they say about Muggles . . .' Alexa said. 'While it takes them an hour to screw in a light bulb properly, it takes a witch or wizard about a half second to "Lumos."'

Amber looked up, bewildered. 'You actually say that about Muggles?' Shrugging, she placed a spying eye on the supply closet, knowing that Professor Snappy Snape would soon emerge from his office with the proper paperwork filled out to take with him to the Headmaster's office. Amber was a little worried; disrespecting a professor in front of the entire class or just disrespecting him at all was highly frowned upon amongst adults. There was no way Dumbledore would remember how difficult it was as a teenager and 'let them off' easily.

Alexa and Liza sneered as their potions master indeed walked out of the supply closet. 'Best be off, then,' Liza said to the Doomed Duo. Then, in a sympathetic whisper she muttered, 'And don't let the greasy-haired git get to you. If anything, you can threaten him with a bath and he'll scream bloody murder in the other direction.'

The latter made Ginny laugh. 'I'll see you later,' she said, and Alexa and Liza hurriedly left their two friends.

Professor Snape, in all his mighty pride, scowled at the two girls that had caused him so much annoyance and wondered why he was even bothering to escort them to the Headmaster's office. He started towards the door and noticed the two Gryffindors weren't moving. 'Follow me, please,' he said silkily. There was no doubt he was extremely temperamental at the moment. Actually, there was no doubt he was always this moody. The girls quickly gathered their possessions, stuffing them in their bags and clumsily trotting toward their professor who was much more fit than they would ever give him credit for. After half an hour of half-walking, half-running their way around the expansive castle, their professor finally stopped in front of a large gargoyle.

Snape cleared his throat and in an undertone, so as to disguise the password from the stealthy, sneaky little Gryffindors, he said, cringing, 'Weasleys' Wizarding Wheezes' Wonderful Wedgies.' Suddenly, the large gargoyle leaped aside and behind it appeared an upward revolving staircase. Snape wasted no time in gaping at the majestic structure, merely stepped onto it and was soon out of sight.

'Dost thou wish a more pleasant journey?' said a steely voice.

Ginny nearly jumped out of her skin.

'Who said that?' Amber asked no one in particular.

The gargoyle came to life. It began to hiss in a most peculiar melody. 'Speak not of this discovery; in good company thou shalt find a more endearing spree. Alas, not to tamper with the meddling, the answer is requisite, but it is not forthcoming. I ask thee again, fair fellow: dost thou seek a more pleasant trek?' said the gargoyle. It seemed to speak in very elaborate rhymes—almost too overwhelming for any of the two fifth year Gryffindors to respond right away.

Ginny and Amber stared at the expressive gargoyle. Its voice made its gender questionable. Still staring at the animated sculpture, Ginny whispered to Amber, 'What'd it say?'

Amber, eyes glued to the now impatient gargoyle, said, 'I dunno, Gin. Was it even speaking English?'

The gargoyle seemed furious by now. 'I say!' it said. 'How can it be that two young ladies such as yourselves never once learned that it is quite rude to whisper about? I _do_ have ears, you know.'

Amber stepped towards the gargoyle and inspected it, finding it did indeed have ears. 'Well, you'd never know from all the way over there—and besides, it's not every day one is met with a talking gargoyle.'

Ginny nodded her head in agreement. 'Yeah, I thought you were just all . . . stoned.'

Amber snorted. Ginny gave her an odd look and the gargoyle leaped towards her, shouting, 'Well, I never—!'

Realizing what she had said, Ginny's eyes widened and she stealthily ran around the now furious gargoyle and onto the escalator-like staircase. As soon as Amber joined her, Ginny shouted an apology down the stairwell and was met with quite an angry yell from below. By the time she reached Dumbledore's office, Ginny was quite sure the gargoyle would never forgive her.

'Ah, the Gryffindors have arrived on time,' said Dumbledore from his place behind his large oak desk. But the objects of his speech barely heard him; they were too preoccupied staring in awe at the gizmos, gadgets, and silvery, whirring things that dotted bookshelves, tabletops, the floor, chairs, and the air alike. Amber in particular was rather interested in the portraits on the opposing wall of Dumbledore's desk. She inspected each depiction of Hogwart's previous Headmasters and Headmistresses with equal attention. 'Forty-nine?' she said, turning to Dumbledore, eyes wide with bewilderment.

Dumbledore leaned over his desk and his eyes twinkled from behind his half-moon spectacles. He smiled a fairly amused smile and stared down at her over his long, crooked nose. 'Why yes, forty-nine,' he said. Amber couldn't help but notice that only Dumbledore, in all his whimsical wisdom, was the only one who could ever lean over anything and still maintain a relatively majestic air.

'But why so few?' Amber asked, indeed puzzled. How could it be that only FORTY-NINE people had taken care over the school in the past millennium?

Again Dumbledore's eyes sparkled brilliantly. 'Well, you see—it is not only Muggles that grudge against time. Why, if it weren't for the killing curse and uprising in magical mishaps, the average wizard would live to be three-hundred and twenty-three.'

'Wow,' Amber said, amazed. 'You mean they each lived for three-hundred and twenty-three years?' she asked, pointing to the portraits on the wall.

'Hardly,' Dumbledore said. 'One thousand, one hundred forty-four divided by forty-nine is—'

'Roughly twenty-three, Headmaster,' said Snape . . . from somewhere. 'But that is merely an average of the term each Headmaster or Headmistress served at Hogwarts, excluding Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, and Slytherin's time here at the castle.' Ginny and Amber turned around and snapped their heads in the direction of the silky voice. There, in the shadows, sat a slightly bored and scowling Professor Snape.

'Oh, hello, professor,' Ginny said brightly. 'I'd almost forgotten about you.' Ginny turned to Amber and muttered, 'It wouldn't be such a shame to forget him, actually. The shame would be in remembering him, I say.' Amber stifled her giggles into her robe sleeve.

Snape rolled his viciously black eyes and muttered (more to himself than anyone else), 'Don't they all . . .'

Dumbledore chuckled at the comment that had inescapably reached his keen ears. 'Ah, Severus, glad you could join us. Now, Miss Boggle, Miss Weasley, if you'd please take a seat and we may respectfully adjourn the purpose of this visit.'

Almost hesitantly but nonetheless reproachfully, the two Gryffindors sat themselves down in front of Dumbledore, refusing to look at Snape for sheer grudging reasons. Snape again proceeded to roll his eyes and mark his face with yet another harsh scowl.

'Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today,' Dumbledore began, in a most mourning manner.

Snape was glaring daggers at him. Dumbledore, quite amused at the giggling faces of the Gryffindors and the unpleasant countenance of his Potions professor, advanced his childish introduction, 'to discuss the—the—I apologise, Severus, what was it you said happened?'

'I was telling you, Headmaster, that these two Gryffindors have inquired and humiliated me in a most disrespectful way,' replied Snape bitterly.

'How so?' asked Dumbledore, intrigued at how his Potions Master could ever take too seriously the sarcastic remarks of two Gryffindor girls.

'Miss Boggle for instance, asked if she could 'inquire the blatancy of my hypocrisy' during class,' Snape said.

Dumbledore turned one raised eyebrow at the said Gryffindor. Amber blushed furiously. 'In my defense, Headmaster, Professor Snape also chose to humiliate _me_ during class. In fact, I was only just returning the favour,' she said.

'I see,' Dumbledore said, casting a rather odd glance at the young professor. 'It seems Miss Boggle had every right to answer you in the same courtesy.'

Snape was furious. Teeth clenched, he looked at the two girls with such loathing it was quite difficult to match his contempt. 'Very well,' he said, rising from his seat. 'I'll see you two tomorrow in detention—ah yes, I've almost forgotten,' Snape said, almost smiling. 'We still need to arrange that. In fact, it would be prudent to have here Mister Malfoy and—your other two friends.'

Dumbledore raised his eyebrows. 'Severus, you never mentioned having to arrange detention,' said he.

'Yes, well—it must be done, although we need a mediator—would you mind—?'

Dumbledore chuckled. 'Of course not,' he said.

'Brilliant,' Severus said. 'Miss Boggle if you would fetch—your friends.'

'Yes, Professor,' said Amber in a very bored tone, and off she went.

'And Miss Weasley, I believe Mister Malfoy is in Charms with the Gryffindors,' Snape said, grinning wickedly.

Dumbledore didn't say a word as she got up from her seat cringing at the mention of Malfoy's name, and briskly walking out of his office. 'Severus,' he said in a very serious fashion. 'I understand Mister Malfoy and Miss Weasley aren't getting along.'

Snape shook his head, 'No, Headmaster. The two aren't getting along at all. The detention scheme didn't work and now she's gotten her most quiet friend to backtalk just to get out of it. The gall of it!' the professor exclaimed darkly.

The Headmaster chuckled appreciatively. 'I think we need a new plan,' he said.

And with that, the two began to plot.

_**Meanwhile. . . .**_

Ginny trudged down the corridors, scowling at the injustice of the whole ordeal. Professor Snape had disrespected _her_. Now she had to go get Malfoy out of Charms class. With the Gryffindors. Where her brother, Hermione and Harry were residing this class period. _Perfect_, she thought. _Just what I needed: an interview from my brother asking for an exclusive featuring Malfoy and why the bloody hell I want him out of class. _

'Ugh!' she yelled frustratingly down the stone landing. Her voice echoed even louder as it turned the corner. Normally, Ginny would have fled in the opposite direction in case someone had heard her. But right now, everything was much different. Everything was not normal. Right now, her sanity depended upon her very unusual Headmaster and his extremely bitter Potions Master who was sure to favour whatever idea befell that stupid Bunny-Butty Malfoy.

Upon reaching the Charms classroom, Ginny inhaled deeply and racked her brains for a subtle sentence implying the necessary release of Mr. Draco 'I'm Too Good For A Bloody Attitude Adjustment' Malfoy. Ginny rolled her eyes and breathed in again to calm herself down. It was almost no use; just the thought of that incompetent Bunny-Butt infuriated the little redhead. Carefully she opened the large doors leading into the classroom and tentatively walked down the aisle that separated the two sides of the room assigned to the Gryffindors and Slytherins, respectively. At the front of the room Professor Flitwick stood on top of a large pile of books, it seemed he was right in the middle of a lesson.

'Pardon, Professor,' Ginny said, her voice rather raspy. The small body of Flitwick paused a bit, appearing as if he had heard something, but wasn't quite sure what it was he had heard.

Ginny cleared her throat and tried again. 'Professor Flitwick—er, Professor?'

Flitwick spun around rather abruptly, consequently knocking himself over into his mountain of books. Ginny only heard a little squeal and an 'oomf!' before she decided to investigate any possible injuries her surprise visit could have caused her Charms professor.

She rushed over to him along with several other students, Hermione included. 'Ginny?' she said, confused, as she lifted a very flushed Flitwick from the pile of books. 'What are you doing here?'

Ginny, also somewhat pink in the face from having caused Flitwick to become a human domino, grabbed onto Flitwick's shoulder and said, 'Snape's had me fetch Malfoy.'

'Oh, Gin! This hasn't got anything to do with that little battle of hexes you two had in the dungeons the other day, has it?' Hermione asked.

Flitwick got to his feet and to the class he announced, 'Lucky I put a Cushion Charm on those books, eh?' and chuckled a bit.

'Sorry about that, Professor,' Ginny said to him quietly. Then to Hermione she added, 'How d'you know about that?'

'That was you, was it? Well, then, Miss Weasley, I do say it is quite alright, only I'd prefer it if next time you'd come into view before knocking me into fright!' said Flitwick. 'Now, my dear, what was it you wanted?'

Ginny, a tad preoccupied listening to Hermione ramble on about how everyone knew what had happened between Ginny Weasley and Draco Malfoy that day in the dungeons, had only begun paying attention to Flitwick's little monologue just as soon as he had asked her his second question and really had no idea what it was about.

'Sorry?' she said, quite at a loss and much too embarrassed to improvise.

'My dear! You come into my classroom, frighten me into oblivion, humiliate me in front of my students, and you say you haven't a reason for this sort of disruption? That sort of behaviour is quite inappropriate in this world—'

'Professor, believe me I'm sorry—and I've got a reason for all of this as well—just, please—listen—'

'Yes, Miss Weasley. Continue on. You've got my full attention—after all, who wouldn't want to know why they'd been pushed over into a pile of books?' The Charms Professor seemed to get a kick out of repeating all of his unfortunate occurrences.

'Er, well, I'm here to fetch Malfoy. The Headmaster would like to see him, sir.' Ginny was sure her face matched the exact bright red of her hair. It was somewhat embarrassing, in fact.

A loud chorus of 'boos' came from what Ginny interpreted to be the Slytherin side of the room. Malfoy emerged and accosted the very red Weasley. 'One hand on her, Malfoy,' said a voice opposite the Slytherins. Ron approached the little congregation at the front of the room, ears red and wand pointed threateningly at the smirking, blond boy.

'Mister Malfoy, if the Headmaster wishes to see you, I advise you comply with his request,' said Flitwick.

'Right, thank you, Professor,' Malfoy said methodically. He turned to Ron, said, 'Like I'd really lay one finger on that bloody piece of scum,' and then smirking grabbed Ginny by the sleeve of her robe, walking out of the classroom and into the hallway.

'Let—go—of me!' Ginny yelled through gritted teeth as soon as they had reached the corridor.

Draco didn't need telling twice. He happy obliged, pushing her sleeve away rather violently. Poor Ginny nearly repeated the unfortunate spill of her Charms professor only minutes before. 'What the bloody hell do you think you're doing—?' she spluttered, as she attempted to regain her balance.

Draco smirked. 'You know, Flitwick and you would make one wicked comedy act together. Perhaps with your earnings you could get your family a decent home, something apart from that nasty old shoe you currently call home.'

Unfortunately for Draco, Ginny was not unbalanced enough not to give him a rightly deserved knock in the face. Which was exactly what she did, actually.

'Oh, you've done it now, you little Weasel!' said he, and he stumbled a bit, too, clutching his jaw.

Ginny, rubbing her fist on her robe furiously as though it were contaminated, said, 'Seems I'm not the only one who'll be joining that little comedy act. Flitwick and I have been thinking—we need a third Stooge, and I believe you'll do perfectly. You'd make a lovely Larry.'

Draco looked at her, completely bewildered. 'Honestly, are you too daft to speak properly? What are you going on about?'

'Oh, just one of the many advantages of being a Muggle-lover, that's all,' Ginny said indignantly. 'I get a look outside what we of wise knowledge call the "narrow mind." Nothing quite like yours, Malfoy, though.'

Draco took this as an opportunity to collect his pride. 'Because I am superior to even you and your wise knowledge,' he said, puffing up his chest.

Ginny decided to humour him. 'Yes Malfoy. You're way of thinking is so superior to my wise knowledge, it has popped and fallen down the trail of humankind's nearly perfect progression in intelligence. I say "nearly" because you and the rest of your lot of Malfoys came about and disrupted it.'

Draco sneered at the little redhead, his head filling with all sorts of revenge. He thought possibly he and Ruscher could come up with small-sized attacks and ready the Weasel for the grand finale. _Yes_, he thought, as he fingered his throbbing jaw, _that's exactly what we'll do._

* * *

**A/N:** Whoooooooo. It's been almost a year since I updated this last. I came back to it . . . deciding maybe I should try and finish something for once, and thought this story had lots of potential.

**SHOULD I FINISH IT?**

Tell me in a review!

Cheers and tootles!

--blufiresprite


	8. A Little Heart to Heart

**A/N:** I may just be getting better at these updates—what should it be, anyway? Twice a week? Once a week? Every other week—so you can savour every chapter and let me come up with really good stuff? Hmmm . . . I suppose I'll update whenever I can. Anyway, **thanks sooo much to all of my reviewers! You made me feel oh so very special and warm and tingly inside, ha.**

(Special note to **DrakesDream** since the poor dear's email got cut off by _Windows_ has turned into something completely unexpected and I'm going to re-edit it to fit the new cannon—book 6—and repost it as soon as I can get all of my facts straight. You see, I went on holiday once, and while I was there I came up with this really complicated plot that is just very wonderful in my opinion, so . . . it'll just take a while. I'm glad you like it though. Hopefully you'll like it even better when it's reposted under the title _A Page in the Book of Fate_.)

* * *

Too Far Gone

Chapter Eight: A Little Heart-to-Heart

* * *

Draco stalked off in the direction of Dumbledore's office, leaving Ginny attempting to match his pace, and failing miserably. Try as she might, she couldn't catch up with him.

That was just as well for her, thought Ginny, glaring evilly at the air in front of her as she imagined Malfoy bouncing around as a white ferret. Her triumphant smirk suddenly transformed in seconds into a very worried expression as she realized that returning to the headmaster's office required an encounter with the grudging gargoyle at guard. She increased her pace, hoping to catch Malfoy as he stepped unto the rising stairs, and slip by the wretched, leering block of stone. As luck would have it, the gargoyle had just leaped back into its guarding position as she rounded the corner. But it wasn't Malfoy that had entered it.

Malfoy was peering over a statue's head, back to Ginny. Seeing no one in front of him, he straightened his back, stepped out from behind the statue, and continued down the corridor.

'Training for your career as a Death Eater, or is it in your nature to sneak about and hide that way?' Ginny called to him.

Without turning around or slowing his stride, Draco replied, 'Very funny, Weasley. I suppose as a brave Gryffindor you wouldn't have any trouble facing the prat that's just gone into the Headmaster's office, would you?'

'As a Gryffindor, I would. Who is so terrible you had to hide from that person?' Ginny said.

Draco, reaching the gargoyle, turned around to face her. He smirked, and said, 'Scrimgeour.'

Ginny didn't blink. 'Liar,' she said, and closed in on the distance between them.

Draco's smirk was even more triumphant. 'You caught me,' he said, then added, 'well, it was nice chatting and such, Weaslette, but I'd better get going.' He patted the gargoyle's nose and turned to leave.

Quick as lightning, Ginny stepped in front of him and grabbed him by the neck of his robes. 'I didn't get you out of class just so that you could skive off, you big git. Dumbledore really does want to see us.'

'Don't worry, Weasley, I get it,' said Draco, and he brought her face up to his. 'There's a broom cupboard over there, you know.' Ginny slapped his hand away, but his grip on her jaw only tightened. 'It's a shame you had to go to such great lengths to get some—I mean, all you had to do was ask.'

If looks could kill, Draco Malfoy would have been sent to the Afterlife and back again to be hit over the head with a cauldron by none other than humanitarian Ginny Weasley, servicing the world. But Ginny seemed to ponder Draco's offer, and her face softened. 'You're kidding me. All I had to do was ask? But answer me, dearest _Draco_,' Ginny said in sudden harshness, 'why would I ever want to lay a finger on you? You're an arrogant prick whose head is so large, it really puzzles me how anything but your ego can fit in there. But then, I suppose that explains a number of many things, doesn't it? Your idiocy, for example?'

Draco narrowed his eyes at the girl whose chin he had wrapped with his own fingers. He pushed her head away and sighed resignedly. 'I can't be all _that_ bad, Weasley.'

'But you are.'

Draco leaned against the wall, crossed his arms, and smirked. 'No I'm not. You can't deny I am dead sexy and charming.'

'Oh yes I can, you narcissistic prat. Now let's get going before Dumbledore gets his knickers in a twist,' Ginny said, and started back towards the gargoyle.

Malfoy visibly cringed.

'What? Afraid of the Headmaster?' Ginny said mockingly.

'No, it's just that—that's the worst mental image I've ever had,' he said in the most sincere tone Ginny had ever heard him use. He then proceeded to rub his stormy grey eyes with a look of pure disgust.

Ginny smirked. 'Not worse than Snape in a Speedo.'

Draco looked at her and with a sheepish expression said, 'I once upon a time had the misfortune of imagining him in a thong, actually.'

Ginny couldn't help it. She slapped her mouth over her hand and laughed outright. 'Well, that's your own fault isn't it? God, you've got a distorted mind. You're going to make a great Death Eater someday.'

'And when I am, I'll be sure to use these exact images for torture.'

'You're sick,' Ginny said, frowning.

Draco's usually impassive face took an uncharacteristic cheerful grin as he made his way in the opposite direction of Dumbledore's office. 'I think you're right. Let's take me to the hospital wing.'

Ginny looked utterly horrified. 'Listen Bunny-Butt, I'm not playing any more games,' she said, and swiftly shoved him in the correct direction. 'We've got to go see Dumbledore. Snape's in there. And so is—whoever you were hiding from.'

'Your friends entered the office,' Draco said flatly. 'And if you must know, it's rather awkward to walk in on someone describing the exact way they'd skin you alive and eat you.'

'You cowardly Slytherin twit, Malfoy! Honestly, _you_ hiding from a bunch of _girls_? I've never heard of such a thing!' Ginny was laughing at him again.

Draco's eyes narrowed and was about to retort when the gargoyle jumped aside to open the office.

'Touching as it is to hear this heart-to-heart, I believe, Miss Weasley, you were supposed to bring Mister Malfoy to the Headmaster's office, not indulge in small talk,' said a languidly cold voice from behind them.

Draco immediately straightened up. 'Professor Snape, sir. Weasley and I were just—er—we were just—'

Ginny, surprised to see Malfoy of all people flustered, spoke up. 'We were just trying to come up with the password, Professor.'

Snape sneered at the pair. 'You will recall that all persons expected in the Headmaster's office need not a password to enter, merely the thought that they are not intruding. Perhaps one of you did not want to enter at all?' The Potions Master inspected each of his students critically.

Ginny's eyes flickered over to Malfoy, but his face was impassive, almost immune to Snape's terrible beady, black eyes. 'No, sir,' he breathed.

'Right, then,' Snape said lazily. 'Perhaps we could bring this party into the Headmaster's vicinity? He is waiting for us after all.' And with that, Severus Snape promptly turned and ended all conversation between the two victims of the plan fashioned by the Headmaster and himself. He could only smirk at the punishment that awaited them.

Ginevra Weasley scowled darkly at her Potions Master. _But_, she thought to herself, _at least now I've got some blackmail on Draco. Honestly! Hiding behind a statue!_ She sniggered under her breath as she and Draco slipped past the gargoyle and unto the winding staircase.

* * *

**A/N:** So Draco's getting a little soft, don't you think? Maybe we can give him something about Ginny to hate again—**coming soon: A Scheme of Schemes**, where Dumbledore and Snape unveil their 'punishment' for our favourite Gryffindor/Slytherin couple.

**Review, review, review!**

--blufiresprite


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